Resistance: Bloodstream
by It's All In Your Mind
Summary: 4th in Resistance series. Annie in the Capitol/parts of Mockingjay/Finnick living. The first few chapters are VERY DARK, but it'll get cute later.
1. The Arrival

**I'm back! I'll only be posting chapters once a week like I did in the first Resistance. This story will be mostly from Annie's POV, and I promise to explain what happens with Dodge and Broadsea.**

**The Arrival**

(ANNIE)

I'm given some clothes and sent behind a curtain to change. They're little more than a bra and shorts, but I suppose wardrobe is the least of my problems right now. I come back out and Belisarius tells me to sit on a chair in the very center of the room; I do.

He removes my earrings and necklace and hands them to his right-hand Peacekeeper. Then Belisarius takes my right hand and shoves his knife under the safety bracelets I'm wearing and slices them away. He doesn't pick them up and give them to his right-hand man, no – he lets those stay on the ground.

I rub my wrist as a voice announces that we're about to land.

"Stand up." Belisarius doesn't look me in the eye. "I didn't want to do this," he says as he binds my wrists. "I do not enjoy punishing the _innocent_."

About an hour ago, I woke up with a pair of cuffs on my wrists. The moment my eyes were open, Belisarius started explaining that he was under a direct order from the president to take me and Dodge to the Capitol – but Dodge wasn't coming.

"Where is he?" I ask quietly.

"Who?" asks Belisarius. "Finnick, or Dodge?"

I shrug. "Both."

This may not sound right, but Belisarius is kind of easy to talk to. No. That definitely doesn't sound right.

"Dodge ran off before we had the chance to apprehend him. I'm afraid he left you."

I can't make sense of that. "What about Finnick?"

But instead of answering, he leads me out of the hovercraft.

We've landed near the center of a clearing. The grass is brown – dead. I can see the Capitol off in the distance. The whole clearing is surrounded by a barbed-wire fence. There are guard towers all around. With armed guards in them. And sitting in the very center of it all is a tiny white building.

This is my new prison.

Two men and a woman walk over to us from the building.

The leader is one of the men. He's got dark blond hair, very sharp cheek bones, and puffy lips. (They're not Snow-sized, but they're still pretty big.) He looks a few years younger than Belisarius – maybe Broadsea's age. There's a metal ring clutched in his right hand, but I can't get a good look at it.

The puffy-lipped leader smiles. "Brother!" he says, embracing Belisarius.

_Brother_? Belisarius has a _brother_?

"Telemachus," Belisarius replies. He's smiling, too.

"How have you been?" Telemachus asks.

"I have been much, much better." He gestures to me. "This is Annie."

Telemachus tilts his head to the side. He slowly makes a semicircle around me in one direction, then turns around and does it in the other. Then he stops directly in front of me and looks me up and down. I don't like that look in his eye.

"Hello, there." He smiles at me. "That will be all, brother," he says without looking away from me.

Belisarius and his Peacekeepers climb back onto the hovercraft without a word.

"Annie Cresta." Telemachus steps closer to me and begins fiddling with the metal ring in his hand. "From this moment on, your name is AC70." He opens up the metal ring and slaps it around my neck.

I gasp. It's heavy and freezing cold. And there's a blinking red light on the front of it; I can see it if I look at a strange angle.

Then Telemachus grabs a ring of keys from his hip and selects one. It's a funny white prism with strange metal ridges on it. He presses it to something on the side of the collar and it tightens slightly, snapping shut. Then he returns the ring to its rightful place.

"Come along, my dear." He puts his hand on the small of my back and starts steering me towards the little building. "Book her," he says to the woman that walked out with him.

She begins typing something into a portable screen. "Should I put her in an adjoining cell to BR64, warden?"

"Put them in the _same_ one," Telemachus answers as we enter the tiny building. Guess he's the warden.

There's a desk near one of the corners and a whole wall of elevators. The woman continues typing as she sits down at the desk. She must be the receptionist.

"Take her, Thaddeus," Telemachus says to the other man. "I have an appointment with PM74 and a very large needle."

He pushes me to Thaddeus, who grabs me by the upper arm so tightly I can feel my circulation cutting off. He drags me over to the elevator wall and presses his palm to a portion of the wall. The doors of the nearest elevator open and we go inside.

Telemachus smiles as the doors begin closing. "Nice meeting you."

We're in the elevator for what feels like years before the doors reopen.

Thaddeus keeps his hand wrapped tightly around my arm as we move through corridors. They're all made of shiny white floors and walls, and seven-foot-high ceilings composed entirely of lights. Every now and then, there's a door with "Avox1" or "JM67" written on it, and a panel beside it where a guard presses his or her palm.

The farther we move, the more I shake. My knees even give out a few times. But Thaddeus just yanks me back onto my feet and we keep moving.

After what feels like hours, we reach a door marked "BR64 & AC70." Thaddeus touches the panel on the wall and the door slides away. He shoves me inside.

There are three people in the room: two guards and a very familiar man.

"I've been thinking," the familiar man says. "I'm not going to tell you a damn thing, so why don't you just go ahead and tear out my tongue."

There's blood covering the right half of his face. Its source is a long red scar that's just been reopened.

And I know exactly who he is.

"Broadsea!"


	2. The Cellmate

**My writing may not be the best this very sad chapter. I haven't done Annie's POV in quite some time, and it's hard to write this story as it is.**

**The Cellmate**

(ANNIE)

A look of absolute horror washes over Broadsea's face. Immediately, his hands start shaking and his chest starts heaving. "Why is she here?"

He's bloody and bruised. He's wearing a pair of black shorts similar to mine and one of these metal collars.

Thaddeus releases me and I fall to the floor. There's a cold sort of feeling in my arm the blood rushes back into it. "Isn't it obvious, BR64?" he asks. "She's here to keep Finnick in line. And the warden thought she might loosen your tongue, too. I thought he was wrong. But then again . . ."

Just as I make it onto my knees, he smacks me back to the ground. Then kicks me in the ribs so hard I hear a crack.

I can't see anything through the tears pouring from my eyes. But I don't make a sound.

"Maybe I'm not getting my point across." He turns and addresses the others. "Boys. Collar-shock."

What's a collar-shock? Whatever it is, Broadsea doesn't seem to like the sound of it. He clenches his jaw so hard I think he's gonna shatter his teeth.

One of the other Peacekeepers taps a white cuff on his wrist. "Requesting collar-shock on AC70."

Broadsea doesn't say a thing. Instead, he glares at Thaddeus as though looks could kill.

The voice of that woman – the receptionist lady – comes out of nowhere. "Request granted."

There's a tiny ringing noise in my ear as the blinking red light on my collar changes. It stops blinking and stays steady. Then it turns blue.

Shortly afterwards, the pain comes.

Can't exactly say what it's like 'cause I've never felt it before. Rips the scream right out of my throat. Hurts. Burns, stings, itches, freezes, everything. All at once. Constricts my throat so I can't breathe. Or move. Or do anything but scream.

When it stops a few moments later, I stay on the ground. It's not worth it to move. Breathing sounds like nails scraping on a chalkboard.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell us anything?" Thaddeus asks Broadsea.

"Go to hell," Broadsea says calmly. He hasn't bothered to take his eyes off of Thaddeus this whole time.

"I think that's enough for today anyway." And with that, the Peacekeepers go.

The moment the door shuts Broadsea is by my side. He picks me up and carries me over to a tiny cot that I didn't notice was there. It's about as thin as a duvet, with only a threadbare sheet thrown over it. He sets me down in the middle of it and pulls the covers up to my shoulders.

"It's okay," he says; I still can't breathe right. "Stay still. You'll be able to speak again in a few minutes." And so I lie there obediently, marinating in the pain. Broadsea sits a few feet away, watching me all the while.

I manage to ask, "Where's Finnick?"

"District Thirteen," he says. "Where you should be."

And then he starts explaining our situation.

"The warden, Telemachus, is Belisarius's younger half-brother. Peeta Mellark is definitely here. Johanna Mason and Enobaria Borden might be, too. I'm not exactly sure what collar-shocks are, but they hurt like hell. When things started going wrong in the arena, me and a few other mentors created a diversion so Plutarch and Haymitch could escape and rescue the tributes." He pauses there as his eyes sort of glaze over.

I put my hand on his.

"They shot the mentors from Seven and Eight," he continues quietly. "Willow and Ulysses. The one from Three hanged himself before they got the chance to kill him." He sniffs and wipes his nose. "But they got me. They executed all the other mentors – even the ones that didn't know anything." He points at the wall across from us. "That turns into a television. They broadcast the executions to the whole country. Even in this cell."

I squeeze his hand.

"They'll probably do the same thing when they decide to kill _me_."

[LATER]

"Why are you fixing her up?" asks Broadsea.

Doctor Herr sighs. "Many prominent Capitol citizens believe that Miss Cresta should be treated humanely." He presses a white square of gauze to the spot where I was kicked. "As long as she's fixed up afterwards, the president can do what he wants without those citizens getting angry."

"That doesn't sound right," Broadsea says. "Why don't they just not-torture her?"

In reply, the doctor snorts.

"Can I have water?" I ask quietly. My throat has recovered enough for me to speak.

I've been locked up here for at least a day now. Every few hours, Thaddeus and a few others come in to interrogate Broadsea. And then there's that horrible screaming that comes from the other cells every now and then.

But Finnick is safe. That's all that matters.

"Certainly." Doctor Herr grabs a small canteen and gives it to me. I gulp down half and pass it to Broadsea, who drains it in seconds. The doctor points at the gauze square that's now sticking to my skin on its own. "That's synthetic human tissue. It will fall off when you've healed." He stands up and gathers his things.

I don't really know what Doctor Herr looks like 'cause he's wearing a surgical mask, cap, and scrubs. But he's got brown eyes. He doesn't seem alarmed by seeing all this violence. But at the same time, he doesn't strike me as a torturer.

"Thank you," I say to him.

"You're welcome," he says. He tosses another canteen. "That may be the only drink you get for quite some time, so I suggest you save it."

The door flies open. Telemachus, Thaddeus, and one massive gorilla of a man come in.

"Don't leave just get, doctor," Telemachus says. He's livid. "You services will be needed again in a few minutes.

"Don't you dare screw up my hard work," Herr snaps back.

I turn my head to watch as Thaddeus and Gorilla Man each grab one of Broadsea's arms and slam him against the wall. When I turn back to Telemachus, he punches me square in the face.

Herr makes an angry noise. "Telemachus, what the hell?"

"_Her_ brother killed _mine_!" Telemachus screeches.

"I didn't know anything! I swear!" I say.

"Shut UP!" And he hits me again, this time in the gut.

"Stop! You'll re-brake her effing rib!" Herr says – but he does not say _effing_. "God damn it." He starts sorting through his medical items.

"Broadsea, help me!" I beg.

He's not fighting the Peacekeepers that hold him. He just looks indifferent.

"Please!"

Telemachus keeps hitting and hitting and cussing at me.

"If you kill her, Snow's going to make you eat your own entrails," Herr says, flicking a syringe. "You know that, right?"

Telemachus doesn't pay attention.

Instead, he hits me so hard in the head that I black out.


	3. Knots

**Filler chapter. Short and completely plot-less. There will be more chapters from Finnick's POV when Annie gets out of the Capitol.**

**Knots**

(FINNICK)

Figure eight, monkeys fist, bowline, clove hitch. Every knot I know, every second of the day for the past week. That's how long they've had Annie.

"How do you feel about Katniss?" asks Doctor Something.

I shrug.

Actually, I've changed my mind again. We're friends now. Katniss has a lot of crap to deal with – especially since 12 was destroyed. Plus, she thinks Peeta's dead. (That must be hard on her, but she's better off thinking he's dead than knowing what they're really doing to him.)

"Finnick?" the doctor asks. "Are you going to talk at all?"

"No." I unravel the knot I'm working on and look up at her.

Doctor Something would be attractive if she didn't hide behind enormous glasses and pull her hair back so tight she can barely move her face. She's pale, with dark hair. Her nose is pretty big, but a smaller one would make her look strange. She can't be older than twenty-seven.

"Do you want to know what I think?" the doctor asks, leaning forward. "I think you're a smart, capable young man who leads two separate lives. One in the Capitol, one in District Four. Now that those two lives aren't separate anymore, you don't know what to do with yourself."

That's actually pretty fitting. But I'd never tell her that.

I put down my rope and frown at her. "I'm going to bed." I roll over on my side and pull the covers over my head like a little kid.

Doctor Something sighs. "Good night, Finnick."

[LATER]

_"What?" Broadsea teases. "Are you scared?"_

_"Yeah," I snap. "I am."_

_Broadsea's – a victor that I've never met before – just came into my new house to tell me who Xandria was. And that he's going to kill me. It's not exactly what you want to wake up to._

_"You're a little fourteen-year-old prick, you know that?" _

_"This is your problem," I say, as if I know him. "You're not scared of anything, are you?"_

_"No."_

_"Fear is useful." Then I really piss him off. "You're making the same mistake as your little girlfriend. She wasn't scared of me, either. And look where that got her."_

_He takes a swing at me, but I duck under his arm. I manage to land a solid kick in his gut that sends him flying against the wall. But he grabs me by the collar of my shirt before I can do anything else and sucker punches me three times._

_"Okay, I deserved that," I say when he releases me. I spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor._

_"Damn right you did." He stands right in front of me, puts his hand on my shoulder, and punches me square in the gut._

I wake with a gasp.

"Sorry," Doctor Something says. She's standing by my bed, injecting something into my IV. "Did I scare you?"

I shake my head and wipe my runny nose on the back of my hand. "No. How long have I been out?"

"About" – she checks her watch – "six hours."

"Have you been standing there all night?"

She snorts. "As important as you may think you are, I do have other patients. Do you want me to give you something to help you sleep?"

"No, thanks. I've had enough nightmares for one night." I pick up my rope and start tying knots on it. "You can go."

Monkey's fist. Annie's always hated this one because she can't tie it correctly. Annie . . .

"All right." The doctor pats my shoulder lightly. "Good night, Finnick."

And next thing I know, I'm crying like a baby. I'm being as quiet as I can, but after a few moments the curtain around my bed pulls away. Katniss is there. For once, her hair's not in a braid. She's wearing her hospital gown with a big puffy bathrobe over it.

"I can't sleep," she says.

I wipe my eyes, sit cross-legged, and pat the empty space where my legs would've been. She sits. "What's up?"

"Do you think they killed Peeta?" she asks quietly.

"I don't know, Katniss," I lie.

She swallows and forces a smile. "How are you?"

I sigh. "I have definitely been better. But thanks for asking. How about you?"

She shrugs. "I miss home." And then she bursts out in tears.

"Hey, hey," I say. I start patting her back as she sobs. "I've already gone off the deep end, Katniss. There can only be one hopeless crybaby in this friendship. And I have filled that role. So you have to be the strong one. Okay?"

She starts to pull herself together. "Have you heard from Haymitch?" She says his name like she's got a bad taste in her mouth.

"Withdrawal," I say simply. "Go to sleep. You're of no use to me like this."

She cracks a tiny smile, says good night, and goes.

Now that I'm alone again, I can go back to crying.


	4. The Others

**Sorry I haven't posted; I was on vacation. I will explain what happened with Dodge, just be patient. Peeta and Johanna are in this chapter!**

**The Others**

(ANNIE)

Thaddeus puts a cloth sack over my head so I can't see anything – something they do when they want to disorient me. "The warden would like you to visit the other victors," he explains while binding my wrists with rope. "He would also like time alone with BR64." When he's done, he picks me up – also to disorient me – and carries me from the cell.

Broadsea's not doing so well. They keep hurting him but at this point, it's obvious that he won't tell them anything. They've been hurting me less because of this (half the reason they're torturing me is to get him to talk. And that is not happening.) He's stopped caring if he lives or dies.

I've lost track of how long I've been here. Maybe two weeks.

We walk for ten minutes before Thaddeus sets me on my feet. I hear the sound of a door opening, then Telemachus' voice. He's in the middle of an argument with someone. "You want your freedom?" he's asking. He takes me from Thaddeus, pulls the sack off my head, and tosses me at the boy he's addressing. "Kill her."

Peeta Mellark catches me by the upper arms. I look up at him, shaking already. His blond hair is covered in dried blood, and there's desperation his eyes. He only looks at me for a second before his eyes return to Telemachus. "I'm not going to kill her. She hasn't done anything to me."

I look around the room. There's a big glass box in the middle that looks sort of like a shower. There's a chair with leather straps in the corner, facing a wall. Several chains are attached to the wall on my right. They're equipped with funny little clips on the end where they can attach to a metal collar.

"Fine," Telemachus says. He snaps his fingers. Peacekeepers clip those things onto our collars, chaining us to the wall. "I'll be back." And he leaves the room.

"Hi," says Peeta Mellark. "I'm Peeta." He smiles at me – or he tries to, but his face is so bruised it looks like a grimace. "You're Annie, right? Annie Cresta?" I nod. "It's nice to meet you." He holds out his hand. I shake it as best I can with my wrists still bound, which isn't saying much.

All I know about Peeta Mellark is second-hand. The only Games I've watched since my own were this year's, so I didn't see his and Katniss's. But he's always seemed to be a decent guy.

There's an odd pattern of bruises on his inner elbow and forearm. I'd ask what they are, but I honestly don't think I want to know.

"Finnick strikes me as a good guy," he says after a long silence. "And he really seemed to love you."

I swallow and scoot away from Peeta. Finnick is the last person I want to talk about. In fact, I've barely even allowed myself to think about him since the first night they brought me here. I feel almost betrayed. If he loves me so much, why doesn't he come to help me?

Telemachus comes back in, wiping blood off his hands with a damp cloth. "I was having a chat with BR64 and I realized something." He squats in front of me. "You've been here all this time and I've never bothered to ask what you know."

"She's as clueless as I am," Peeta says quickly.

The warden ignores him. "So? What did Finnick tell you?"

I don't say or do anything.

He reaches out and brushes some hair away from my face. "I thought you'd be like this. That's why I dug up a tape of the highlights of your Hunger Games. Would you like to watch it?"

"He never told me anything," I say quickly.

Then one of the walls turns into a television. I'm on the screen with my district partner, Asper. And it's That Day . . .

Blood and knives and severed heads. Flashing before my eyes. Stop, stop, stop, stop!

"He said he was going to get out of the arena," I blurt out. "He said he was going to send somebody to bring me to him. Please. That's all I know."

"And I believe you," Telemachus says. "But I still want to watch that tape."

"NO!" I try to cover my ears but my hands are still tied.

I'm beginning to panic when it pauses. A guard comes in, tugging Johanna Mason along behind him. She's screaming and fighting and screaming and screaming. Begging. Pleading. Shrieking. Crying. Crying like a little kid.

The guard puts her into that glass box at the center of the room and locks her in. slams her fist against the walls as hard as she can. But it doesn't break. "Let me OUT!" Water starts raining down from the container's ceiling. "PLEASE!" She throws her body at the wall as hard as she can. "LET ME _OUT_! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, _PLEASE_!"

I hook my hands behind my head and use my arms to cover my ears in a poor attempt to block out Johanna's screams.

The water keeps pouring into her container until it's full. She's left in there until she's just about to pass out. Then the water begins to drain rapidly. The guard unlocks the door and opens it. Johanna and the remaining water spill out. She coughs up lungful after lungful of water, gasping for air as she does. Telemachus lets her partially regain her breath before collar-shocking her.

Nothing in the world could block out her screams.

"You're in control here," Telemachus says to her. "It doesn't have to be like this. Just tell me what I want to know and I can make this stop."

"Stop the shock," Thaddeus says. "You'll kill her. And she's useless dead."

Telemachus sighs and touches something on his arm. Johanna stops screaming and passes out.

"Warden." The receptionist's voice fills the room. "President Snow is here to see PM74 before the execution."

Peeta is petrified with fear.

Does the lady mean _his_ execution? She can't. He's too valuable. But if he's not the one getting executed, who is?

"Boys," Telemachus says to the guards. "Take our female friends back to their cells."

Johanna's guard tosses her half-conscious body over his shoulder. Thaddeus puts that sack over my head again, unclips my collar, and picks me up. We've barley left the room when we run into President Coriolanus Snow.

I can't see him, but I can hear him making small talk with Thaddeus.

"And which one is this?" the president asks.

Thaddeus lifts me a bit higher, holding me out towards Snow. "Annie Cresta. We haven't told her about the execution yet."

"I see." Snow sighs. "I have to get going if I want to see Mr. Mellark."

And so we part ways.

Back in the cell, Thaddeus uncovers my head and cuts the bonds on my hands. "I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you," he says to Broadsea. "The execution's in less than an hour." Then he leaves.

"Whose execution was he talking about?" I ask.

Broadsea won't meet my eye; my stomach twists itself into knots.

His answer is simple. One horrible, heart-stopping word uttered in a clear and strangely calm voice.

He says, "Mine."


	5. Broadsea

**_SADDEST/DARKEST/GORIEST CHAPTER IN THE ENTIRE STORY_. You've been warned.**

**Broadsea**

(ANNIE)

We've been sitting in silence for quite a while now. Tears gush uncontrollably from my eyes. And Broadsea just sits there. Calm and collected. Like he's already made his peace.

"Aren't you scared?" I manage to ask.

"No," Broadsea replies. "Death has to be a lot better than this. Besides. There's got to be something after this. Maybe I'll see Xandria." Xandria. I keep forgetting about Broadsea's dead ex-girlfriend. He doesn't mention her often, only when he wants sympathy – or to piss Finnick off.

I don't really know what to say. So I just say what I feel. "_I'm_ terrified." Then I ask him something I've wanted to for a long time. "Why did you stay behind instead of leave on the hovercraft?"

"I love you, Sweet Annie," he says. He hasn't called me that in years. "It's never been much of a secret. I want you to be happy. I stayed behind so they could get Finnick for you."

All I can say is "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me? It didn't do you any good."

"Still."

He scoots closer to me. "I have three favors to ask you."

"What?"

"First: don't let them brake you down. You've got a lot to live for."

"Okay." But I think it's a little too late.

"Good." He smiles slightly and puts his hands on mine.

"What's the second favor?"

"You have to get out of here. I don't care what you do. Just get the hell out."

"I don't think I can promise you that, Broadsea . . ."

He squeezes my hands. "You have to, Annie. I'm not necessarily asking you to break out on your own; sooner or later someone will come to rescue you."

I nod. "I'll try."

"Trying isn't good enough." He says it so quietly that I can barely hear him.

"I've got a question."

"What?"

"Why didn't you ever help me? When they were . . . hurting me, I mean."

He sighs. "If I showed them that I cared about you, that watching you suffer affected me, they'd only torture you more. I was trying to protect you. Do you understand?"

"I understand." I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. "What's the last request?"

He comes even closer. "Kiss me." He's so close he practically says it into my mouth.

I don't want to. I want to be in 4, in the middle of an argument with Broadsea as usual. I want my Finnick to hold me until I fall asleep. I want to have my weekly dinners with my brother. I want Dodge to stick his false arm over an open flame just to make me squeamish. I want to play chess with Mags on her porch.

I want to be home.

But I'm not. And I won't have the luxury of fighting with Broadsea after today. So I kiss him.

A passionate, rough, almost violent kiss. I'm crying like I never have before. But Broadsea's totally calm, absorbed in it. I try to lose myself in it too. But as hard as I try, I just can't do it.

It ends when our cell door slides open and Thaddeus comes in with another guard.

The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I don't even know if I mean it. "I love you, Broadsea."

He smiles. An honest-to-God, relaxed, amused smile. "No, you don't." He doesn't bother fighting as the guards bind his hands behind his back. Just keeps on smiling.

Nearly an hour passes before anything happens.

Then the wall opposite me and the cot turns into a television. I watch Broadsea being led into the City Circle. He's been cleaned up a bit, and he's wearing better clothes than his uniform shorts. The collar's still around his neck. But he's sure as hell not smiling anymore.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the voice of Claudius Templesmith begins. "We are here to witness the execution of the victor of the Sixty-fourth Hunger Games, Broad –"

That's when it happens.

Broadsea leaps into the air and swings his hands under his legs so that they're in front of him. He quickly proceeds to wrap the chain that connects the handcuffs around a guard's neck. Strangling him. It's actually amazing how fast he is.

Another guard starts shoot at him, but he's got the one he's strangling to use as a human shield.

I shut my eyes because I cannot watch another second of this.

I wanna go home. Please let me go home. Please.

Then Broadsea starts screaming. And I'm forced to open my eyes.

He's crumpled on the ground, clawing at his collar as hard as he possibly can – so hard his fingertips are bleeding. The light on that collar is so blue that it's nearly white.

They're shocking him.

It becomes impossible to hear his screams over my own. I'm crying out his name at the top of my lungs. Like if I scream loud enough, he can hear me.

_Kill him_, I think. _Just shoot him. End his pain_.

Then the light on his collar shatters and he stops screaming. Blood comes trickling down the corner of his mouth.

He's dead.

[LATER]

I honestly don't know how long it's been since Broadsea . . .

But I haven't stopped crying since.

Nobody hurts me. No one seems to care.

Just huddled in a corner with nowhere to go. Nothing to do. No reason to live.

Door slides open. Telemachus comes in with a big knife. Makes sure to close and lock the door behind him.

Not scared. Can't be scared. Too numb.

Walks toward me with a look in his eyes bottomless blue eyes. I've seen it several times before – rarely directed at me. It's not the way Finnick looks at me. Not even the way Broadsea looks – _looked_ – at me. It's not loving or caring.

There is one thing attached to that look. And it sure as hell isn't anything good.

I know what's coming next.

He crouches down in front of me and unbuttons his shirt. "You can scream, you know." He runs his fingers through my hair and then tugs his shirt off all the way. He discards it on the ground beside him. "Screaming's aloud."

Then he starts cutting away my clothes with his knife.


	6. Silence and Noise

**This was nearly impossible to write. It's kind of horrible. I'm so sorry . . .**

**Silence and Noise**

(ANNIE)

The cell door opens. The sack over my head prevents me from seeing whoever it is. And I can't remove the bag because my hands are tied behind my back.

Footsteps draw near. Heavy breathing. And then a shaking hand pulls the sack off my head.

He's a boy. Or maybe a young man. Something in between. Olive skin, gray eyes. Tall. Muscular. Must be a new guard.

"Annie Cresta?" he asks. I just stare at him, afraid to respond. "My name is Gale Hawthorne. I'm a soldier from District Thirteen." He pulls out a knife and I shrink away. "It's okay." He slices the bonds on my wrists. "I'm here to take you to Finnick."

I size him up. Why would a guard lie to me? What reason do they have? I stopped fighting back the day It happened. They all know that. I don't care anymore. So I decide to believe him.

"Here." Gale Hawthorne yanks the sheet off my cot and hands it to me. "Put this on." I remember that my clothes were destroyed during It. And no one's bothered to give me some new ones. I wrap it around myself and take his outstretched hand.

We walk out of the cell. Thaddeus is lying a few feet away from the door. A massive, bloody gash wraps around part of his head. It's the same shape as the butt of Gale Hawthorne's gun. And then I realize Thaddeus isn't alone.

A panicked Doctor Herr is squatting beside him, pouring rubbing alcohol on a bandage. He notices us before he has the chance to do anything else. "You. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Gale points his gun at the doctor, but I step forward. "Come with us." He's nice, and a good doctor. And it just feels wrong to kill him.

Herr seems to consider this offer for a moment. "_Prisoner escaping_!" he cries.

Gale cocks his gun, but Herr shoves the barrel away before he can shoot. Then he leaps on top of Gale; they start to struggle for the gun. I rush toward Doctor Herr's tray of supplies and start searching for something to use as a weapon.

Doctor Herr grunts and jams something between Gale's shoulder blades. Gale cries out. I pick up the whole tray and hit Herr over the head with it. He falls off of Gale, and I start crawling towards the gun. I reach out for it.

Red lights begin flashing. Someone's sounded the alarm. "Prisoners escaping. Prisoners escaping," a prerecorded voice says. "Prisoners escaping."

I barely have the gun in my hand when Herr grabs me by the ankle and starts dragging me towards him. I scream. Then there's a loud bang like gunfire and I can tell without checking that Doctor Herr is dead. I shake his hand off and go for Gale's gun again. I put my hand on it just as a large black boot pins it to the ground.

"Gale!" the boot's owner says.

"I'm okay," Gale says, strained. "He stabbed me" – wince – "in the back" – pant – "with a scalpel."

"Can you walk?" The Boot asks.

"I don't know."

The Boot reaches down and pulls the gun out of my hand. "Excuse me, Miss Cresta." He walks over to Gale and helps him to his feet. "Come on. We have to get moving. The others are waiting." He half-drags Gale along behind him. I follow.

"The others?" Gale asks.

"Yeah," says The Boot. "Johanna and Peeta are with them. Peeta's only half awake; Johanna's completely knocked out. We had to kill their guards."

The automated voice continues its chant. "Prisoners escaping. Prisoners escaping."

"What about the warden?" I ask. "Is he dead?"

The Boot shakes his shaved head. "He's probably tracking us as we speak." Chills crawl up my spine. I barely notice when The Boot stops and holds out a hunting knife. "You know how to use one of these." It's not a question. It's a statement.

I take it reluctantly and we continue on our way.

We round a corner and are greeted by guns. "Chill," Boot says. "It's just us. And we brought Annie Cresta."

Besides Gale and The Boot, there are five other soldiers, all clad in the same plain gray uniform. Two similar-looking women are trying to keep a barely conscious Peeta on his feet because he's too heavy to carry. A big, nervous-looking man holds Johanna in his arms. Besides them there are two other soldiers, one male and one female.

"Let's go," says one of the women supporting Peeta.

"Gale got hurt," The Boot says.

"Then you'll have to keep helping him. I'll take the lead," the male says. He must be the leader. He turns to the female beside him. "You go at the back. The rest are in the middle."

We get into formation and start moving through corridor after corridor until we pop up in the above-ground lobby. I wonder how that happened. The receptionist is sitting at her desk with a red bullet hole between her open eyes.

Out of nowhere, a hand flies out of an elevator and grabs me by the hair. I scream as I'm yanked into the elevator. It's the warden. He holds me in front of him with my back to him and his forearm pressed against my throat. "Hello again, my dear," he whispers.

I'm going to be sick. I haven't seen him since It happened. Memories come flooding back with such force I think they'll kill me. I'd be sick already if I had anything in my system to throw up.

Multiple guns are pointed at Telemachus now. "Let her go," the leader says. "Do it or I'll shoot you."

"You'll shoot me?" Telemachus repeats. "You can't do that without hitting _her_ first."

"What do you want?" The Boot asks.

"Guards!" Telemachus calls. Two men with machine guns appear out of nowhere. "I want you to put down your weapons and give me back my prisoners." Nothing happens. "Whether you live or die is completely up to you."

He continues to talk, but I don't hear any of it. Instead, I subtly pull out my knife – the one that The Boot gave me. Then I shove it hilt-deep into the warden's thigh. Gunshots are fired. Telemachus releases me. I rip his ring of keys off his belt and start running as fast as I can out the door.

There's a hovercraft with an open door. I run inside, followed by the others. I frantically search the ring of keys for the one that goes to my collar. I won't die like Broadsea did. I unlock my collar and fling it across the hovercraft.

A beaten and bloody Telemachus comes charging out with his men behind him. "OPEN FIRE!" he cries. "Bring that ship DOWN!"

As the hovercraft begins to rise in the air, I find Johanna's and Peeta's keys and release their collars. There are purple rings around their necks from the metal digging in; I suppose I have one, too.

Below us, Telemachus is still screaming for his men to bring down the ship, but their bullets are barely scratching the hovercraft.

And then we're so far away, I can't see him anymore.


	7. Indivisible

**I really hope this chapter doesn't suck. It's kind of anticlimactic. Really, really, really sorry about that.**

**Indivisible**

(ANNIE)

"Where's Finnick?" I demand. "When can I see him?"

I was expecting him to be the one to get me, but he wasn't. Instead, it was a boy named Gale. Then I expected him to be waiting on the hovercraft, but he wasn't. There to greet me when I got off, but he wasn't. I'm starting to suspect that he's not here at all.

The nurse tries to hide her frustration behind a smile. "I'll have him brought into your room as soon as we finish your physical. Now lie down, please."

I run my hand over the gurney's scratchy blue sheets. "Can I walk?" I ask. I've never been here before, and District 13 bears some striking similarities with the prison. Walking would make me feel more like I'm here of my own free will.

Every time I shut my eyes, I can still see Telemachus, all bloody and bashed up, screaming at what was left of his men to kill us. We left him there alive, but I expect Snow will execute him. Losing half your troops and all your prisoners is not something a warden usually survives. I hope he suffers.

"I would prefer if you didn't," the nurse says.

I ignore her and hop off the gurney, tightening the dirty sheet around myself. I walk with group without complaint for what feels like ages. Then I see a face in the crowd. It's achingly familiar – the square jaw, the full lips, and the smoldering eyes.

It's him. It _has_ to be.

"That's him!" I break away from the group and walk toward him, hoping to get a better look.

"Annie!" the nurse says. "Get back here!"

He's pale, like he hasn't seen the sun in weeks. His lips are cracked, and there are dark shadows under his eyes. His hair's lost most of its metallic bronze tint. His jaw, chin, cheeks, and neck are dusted with dark stubble. Over all, he looks worn-out and upset and tired and really just horrible but its' _HIM_.

"Finnick!" I call. His head snaps up. A heart-stopping smile spreads across his face and he starts to run for me.

(FINNICK)

"Finnick!" she calls again when we're inches away.

And then Annie Cresta launches herself into my arms. We collide at an odd angle and I lose my footing, crashing into a wall. But I don't care.

Annie Cresta. Who brought me back to life when I'd lost everything. Who never gets angry with me. Who trusts me more than she trusts herself. Whose capture had me in unbearable pain. Who I am so elated to see, I honestly think my heart might explode.

Wrap my arms around her as tightly as I possibly can and bury my face in her soft hair. She throws here own arms around me, digging her nails into my back so hard it hurts. But again, I don't care.

"Annie," I say. "Annie, Annie, Annie . . ."

She hides her face in my chest and we both break down in tears.

Nothing matters. Nothing in this whole stinking world matters. Not the president, not Panem, not home, not here, not Johanna, not Katniss, not Peeta, not Gale, or Plutarch, or Haymitch. Not anyone. Especially not the people that I know are staring. No. The only thing that matters is her.

"You're _here_," I say, laughing. "You're alive."

"Yes." Annie pulls away from me. She touches the little scar on my chin, the one that you only notice if you're looking for it. Then the District 4 seal tattooed on my forearm.

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking to make sure it's you," she says. She cracks a smile. "It is."

I laugh a little. "That's good to know." I keep one arm wrapped around her waist and put my free hand on her cheek. She holds it there. "I love you."

Half her face is covered in a big purple bruise. There are also hand-shaped bruises on her arms and shoulders. Even though she's wrapped in a big sheet, I can tell she's malnourished. But she's alive. And now she's safe.

"I love you," Annie says in reply. "Finnick." She smiles when she says my name. "My Finnick . . ."

I lean forward and kiss her on the head. She wraps her arms around me again.

A set of footsteps creep up behind us. "Annie Cresta!" someone spits. Annie shrinks behind me a bit, but I just shut my eyes and try to ignore the interrupter. "I said you could see him _after_ your exam. Now come with me."

Annie whimpers and holds me tighter. She's frightened.

"It's okay," I say to her. "You're with me now. I'm not gonna let anybody take you from me." I turn to the nurse. "Leave her the hell alone." I'm practically snarling.

The nurse scowls. "Now, listen here –"

"Oh, let them be," Doctor Something says, walking up behind her. "You've got better things to do than bother them. I'll examine her in the morning."

The nurse trudges off, defeated.

"Thank you," I say.

"No problem." Doctor Something looks at Annie and smiles. "Hello. My name's Bennett. I've been taking care of Finnick."

Bennett? Her name is _Bennett_? How did I forget that? Well with any luck, I'll remember this time.

"Hi," Annie says quietly.

"You guys can go back to Finnick's compartment for the night," she says. "I'll have a look at you in the morning. How does that sound?"

Annie nods. "Thank you."

I half-carry her to my compartment. She sits on my lap and I give her all the water she can drink, which is a lot. I just keep my arms around her and rest my cheek on the top of her head as she gulps down glass after glass. We barely speak; we don't need to. Just being together is enough.

"Do you have somewhere I can get cleaned up?" she asks eventually.

"Yeah." I bring her into the bathroom and we get into the shower. I can see that the bruises extend all over her body – legs, arms, torso, even a purple ring that wraps all the way around her neck. And they're all different colors: Some of the healing ones are a repulsive yellow; others are so dark purple that they're nearly black. Instead of making a comment, I concentrate on helping her work the knots from her hair.

Afterwards, I give her a pair of my pajamas to wear. Then we lie down in the middle of the bed like we would at home. We're facing each other with a few inches of space between us.

"Did you miss me?" Annie asks, tracing the outline of my jaw with her index finger.

"Of course I did. I thought about you every second of every day," I say. "How 'bout you?"

She nods. "Yes. Very much. I was scared; I didn't think I'd ever see you again." She cups my cheek in her hand. "But I'm not scared anymore."

I twist my head to kiss her palm. "Things are going to be different this time. I won't have to be unfaithful – or leave you all alone in the middle of every summer. In fact, we're never going to be apart again. I'm going to take care of you. Do everything I should have been doing since the moment I met you."

And I know exactly how to do it.

I'm going to marry Annie Cresta.


	8. Engagement

**The second half of this chapter really doesn't fit with the rest of it, but it wasn't worth it to give it a chapter of its own.**

**Engagement**

(FINNICK)

I sit outside the exam room, drumming out an erratic beat on my knee. "Plutarch!" I call, catching sight of him. "I have a proposition for you."

"Yes, Finnick?" He looks worn to say the least.

"What's wrong?" I stand up and walk over to him.

"Didn't anyone tell you about Katniss?" he asks. I shake my head. "Well, the short version is: they did something to Peeta in the Capitol. Altered his memories. Made him see Katniss as a threat. So when he actually saw her, he attacked her."

"Oh my God – is she okay?" I ask.

He nods. "It's just a lot to deal with. Now, what's this proposition?"

I take a second to absorb this news. They changed Peeta's memories? They can do that? Katniss must be crushed. All this time worrying about Peeta, and when she finally sees him, he tries to kill her. I can't even imagine how she feels.

"I'm going to propose to Annie," I say. "If you help me give her the perfect wedding, I will let you film it for a propo."

Plutarch narrows his eyes. "Hmm. Intriguing. All right, I'll do it." He shakes my hand.

"Great," I say. Now I just need to ask her.

[LATER]

Annie lies under the covers, watching me pace back and forth across the room. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"I have something I want to say to you, but I'm not sure how to say it," I reply without ceasing to pace. "Well, it's more of a question."

Why am I nervous? Worst case scenario, Annie says no. I think the fact that I've never been rejected before is what's scaring me. No. That's not it. _Annie_ is scaring me. Annie, who won't even kill a spider. She can break my heart with just one little word.

"Ask me." She sits up.

I stop directly in front of her and fall ungracefully down on one knee. "I'm not perfect. I know that. I'm secretive and a liar. I can go from pleasant to horrible in an instant." I hold her hands in mine. "But I love you more than you'll ever know. I want the whole world you know that _you're_ the one that makes me happy." I kiss one of her hands. "And I'll be damned if I don't let them know."

Annie starts trembling slightly. "Finnick?"

"The night before I went away, I cried," I say. "Well, to be honest, it was more like weeping. And you slept. You looked so peaceful. I was afraid I'd wake you." I pause for a second to look at her; her shaking's getting worse. "I remember just praying to God, begging Him not to let that moment end. Because as screwed up as it sounds, at the time, it was the happiest moment of my life. Every moment that I'm with you is the happiest moment of my life. And I want to spend every last second of my life with you."

Annie looks both exhilarated and terrified.

"I promise that I'll only ever love _you_. I swear I'll make you happy. I'll do everything you ask of me and give you anything you ask for, Annie. Please. Please say you'll marry me."

She sits frozen, green eyes opened wide.

"I know it would be odd for us," I say quickly. "Our relationship doesn't really include public displays of affection. Public anything, really. But I –"

Annie puts her hand over my mouth to silence me. There are tears in her eyes as she nods her head. She wraps her arms around my neck. "Yes," she says, sniffling but smiling.

"Yes?" I repeat.

"Yes, Finnick! Of course I'll marry you. I'm surprised you even had to ask."

And she kisses me.

[LATER] – (ANNIE)

Slowly, things start to get better.

Preparations for the wedding start. I meet people like Plutarch Heavensbee, Haymitch Abernathy, and Beetee, whose last name I don't remember. I think I've met Plutarch and Haymitch on my Victory Tour, but all I really remember about the Tour is Finnick.

Beetee and I really hit it off. He's pleasant, smart, and interesting. I'm eventually assigned to be his assistant in his lab. I really just hand him tools he needs, try to break his inventions to see how well-made they are, and listen to him talk. It's not a very important job, but I like feeling useful and Beetee seems glad to have company.

I'm starting to gain back some of the weight I lost, but I still look at every meal like it could be my last. Plus, all my bruises are healing. Nobody says anything about them – to my face, at least.

But as good as things are, there's no escaping the nightmares. They're always about It or Broadsea – sometimes both. Finnick always wakes me, wraps his arms around me, and tells me that it's over now. I'm safe. They can't hurt me anymore. He never complains about me waking him up, only rocks me to sleep and tells me he'll still be there when I wake up.

Finnick's gone back to being somewhat secretive. I keep catching him making something, but he immediately hides it when he sees me. And he has these meetings with the man from District 12 who's playing music at the wedding.

For a little while every day, I meet with the music-player from 12 and the kids that have volunteered to sing in order to teach them the wedding song. And in what little spare time I have left over, I work on making Finnick a bracelet as a wedding present.

Plutarch is absolutely dedicated to making this wedding perfect. The argument he's currently having with President Coin is a perfect example of his resolve.

"What do you expect Annie to wear?" he yells. "I can't have her looking like some peasant at her own wedding!"

Finnick leans in and whispers to me, "This may be the most the most entertaining thing I have ever witnessed."

"I expect her to wear her everyday clothing," the president replies in a measured voice.

All at once Plutarch gasps, clutches his heart with one hand, grabs the table to steady himself. Then makes this odd choking noise.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says in a particularly dramatic tone. "She's killed me, that's all!" He recovers himself and turns back to Coin. "I understand that the most interesting part of your day is eating puppies. But woman, you are driving me to _homicide_!"

"One more comment like that, Plutarch, and the wedding is off!" Coin spits back.

I look at Finnick. "She's bluffing," he says. "Don't worry."

Plutarch points his finger at me, but his eyes remain on Coin. "That girl is wearing a dress if I have to sew it myself out of sheets and _human hair_!"

Finnick and I exchange a look.

Katniss, who's sitting across the room from us, clears her throat. "I can bring Annie back to my house in Twelve. I've got plenty of dresses."

Plutarch and Coin stare at each other for a long moment. "Fine," she says at last. Then she leaves the room without another word.

I appreciate Katniss bringing me with her. But our personalities sort of clash. She doesn't choose her words as carefully as others; I have to cover my ears at several points in the conversation, but I keep it together pretty well.

At the end of the trip, I have a pair of shoes I hate, I dress I like, and a man I can't wait to marry.

**Yeah, crappy ending. I apologize.**


	9. Wedding: Part 1

**I separated the wedding into two chapters. This chapter is the ceremony, which includes really horrible fluff. And I mean horrible – like, unadulterated crap. Sorry about that. I'm not a wedding person. The next one is the reception and stuff.**

**Wedding: Part 1**

(FINNICK)

"Ow," I say as a member of Katniss's prep team tugs at my hair. She ignores it. "Ow." She still ignores me. "I said ow, woman. Take the hint."

"Fine," she says angrily. She goes to the door. "You're done, anyway. Plus, I have to help the others with Annie."

My heartbeat quickens and the anxiety in my body rushes to the surface.

Today, I am marrying the girl I love. I've been busy lately, trying to make everything perfect. I've been meeting secretly with the musician from 12 to teach him how to play Annie's and my special song. I've sliced the rope I used while she was gone into thin strips, and woven them together into a safety bracelet.

It feels like years since I've last seen her, but it was only the day before yesterday. I've spent the last two nights in the hospital – not because something was wrong, but because in 4, the bride and groom are separated from each other a few days before the wedding. And the hospital's really the only place to stay in 13.

"Relax, Finnick," Johanna says. She's sitting across the room, filing her nails. "The wedding will be perfect. You're wife-to-be will cry her eyes out, along with half the other females. It'll be so happy it'll make people sad."

"Sarcasm right before the biggest moment of my life." I struggle to properly knot my necktie. "I appreciate that," I say, returning the sarcasm. "Really. Words cannot express my gratitude."

Johanna smiles and starts to help me with my tie. "I do what I can." There's silence for a moment. "I'm happy for you, Finnick. You deserve this. You deserve happiness."

"Thank you," I say as she removes her hands. "That actually means a lot." She shrugs. I start putting on my shoes. "Is it wrong for me to wish Broadsea was here?"

"He wouldn't come to your wedding, even if he was alive."

That's true. He'd probably be off brooding somewhere.

I swallow hard. I know that his execution was broadcast across the country, but they would let me watch it. "Did you see his execution?"

"Yes." Then, quietly, she adds, "Annie did, too."

Before I can say anything else, Dalton – who's coordinating the ceremony – pops his head in. "Almost ready?" he asks in a peppy voice. "You look nervous."

I stand up, pulling on my blazer. "Is it that obvious?"

"You'll be fine," he says. "Come on."

Dalton, Annie, and I are meant to stand on an upraised dais during the ceremony. Chairs have been arranged into neat rows with a big aisle in the middle. The whole place has been decorated with colored leaves and flowers. It's not much, but we don't need anything fancy.

I look out at the guests. Everyone who rescued Annie is here, along with their families. Katniss and her family of course. Johanna. Beetee. Haymitch. Dr. Something (for the life of me, I cannot remember her name!). But people are missing – Mags, Broadsea, Britton, Io, Dodge, Wrather, just to name a few.

Dalton taps me on the arm and I straighten up, turning to face the aisle. Then the musician starts playing and the children begin to sing. The doors open and Annie walks in.

It's impossible to describe how amazing she looks. The front portion of her hair is pulled away from her face; it's more wavy than curly. She's wearing a floor-length, strapless green dress that hugs her curves perfectly. Her lips are a light, fruity pink, while her cheeks are brighter and darker – whether it's from makeup or she's blushing, I can't tell.

We lock eyes. I hold her gaze the whole time she walks up the aisle. _Just like the rehearsal,_ I tell myself. When she's close enough, I step toward her and offer her my hand; she takes it, and I help her onto the dais. I realize that her hands are shaking and hold them tighter in mine.

The song ends and a net woven of soft, light grass in thrown over us as Dalton welcomes everyone. Annie is beaming at me, radiating love and happiness and anticipation. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have been called together today to witness the marriage of Annie Oliva Cresta to Finnick Ajax Odair. After five long years, they are finally able to solidify their love through marriage."

It's like there's nothing else in the world. Like there never has been and never will be. Annie and I are all that there is.

"Finnick," Dalton continues, "do you take this woman to be your wife through high and low, to love, protect, and provide for?"

"Yes," I say firmly.

Dalton turns to Annie. "Annie, do you take this man to be your husband through high and low, to love, support, and look after?"

"Yes," she replies.

Dalton turns back to me. "Do you have anything you'd like to say?"

I nod. "Annie . . . I didn't know it was possible for a person to love someone as much as I love you. You're a part of me. I have no idea why you've stayed with me all these years. But I'm glad you did. Because honestly, I don't think I would've made it this long if it weren't for you. I will never stop loving you."

"And you, Annie?" Dalton asks.

"Finnick . . ." She looks at me with those eyes. "You saved me in every single way that someone can possibly be saved. You'll never, ever know how grateful I am for everything you've done for me. I love you so much."

I want to embrace her, but I force myself to stay in in place. Instead, I squeeze her hands.

The net over us is removed, and Dalton hands me a metal cup filled with saltwater; Annie frees her hands from mine so I can take it. I hold it carefully, as if one wrong move will destroy it. Annie dips her middle and index finger into the water, and then lightly brushes my lips with them. She takes the cup from me and I dip my thumb in. I trace the outline of her lips.

Dalton takes the cup, freeing Annie's hands. But we don't reach for each other, not yet. "According to the customs of District Four, the two of you are now married. May your life together as husband and wife be long and happy." He turns to me with a big old smile on his face. "You may now kiss your bride."

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Annie and I are reaching for each other. I put one hand on each of her cheeks as she coils her arms around me. The guests start cheering as we kiss. But I barely even notice they're there.

There's only me and my Annie – me and my _wife_.


	10. Wedding: Part 2

**Wedding: Part 2**

(FINNICK)

"Annie Cresta Odair," Annie says. "_Mrs. Odair_."

I sigh happily. "I love your new name."

"Me too." She's standing by my side with both her arms around me. "But I still think you should be Mr. Cresta. It has a ring to it."

I chuckle as Beetee makes his way over to us. "Congratulations," he says warmly. I shake his hand. "You've been married a whole seven minutes. How does it feel?"

"Unbelievably good," I say.

"Well congratulations to you both." Beetee smiles, and walks off.

When everyone is done congratulating us, Annie removes her shoes. "These things are killing me!" She wiggles out of my arms. "I made something for you." She pulls something out of her shoe and turns to me again, holding it behind her back. "That was the only place to put it," she says defensively.

"That's all right," I say. "What is it?"

"It's really nothing special. If you don't like it, just tell me." She holds out her hands. It's a simple leather cord with shiny black beads strung on it. "I know, I know, it's horrible, but I just wanted to give you something."

"It's not horrible at all. Thank you." I hold out my wrist and she ties it on. Then she kisses my palm. "I made you something, too." I pull the safety bracelet out of my pocket. As I slip it onto her wrist, Annie starts crying. "Why are you crying?" I ask softly. Have I triggered a flashback or something?

She doesn't seem to realize until I point it out to her. She touches her cheeks and makes a noise of annoyance when she realizes they're wet. "Ugh, dammit . . ." She hurriedly wipes at her eyes.

"Hey, hey. It's all right." I press my lips to her forehead, coiling my arms around her.

She leans against me. "Thanks." She runs her fingers over the bracelet. "It's exactly what I needed."

Johanna comes over to us with two champagne glasses of apple cider. "Take this. We're making a toast." Then she realizes Annie's upset. "You can pretend it's alcohol if that makes you feel better. I know it always brightens _my_ day."

Annie and I keep one arm around each other as we accept our drinks.

Johanna flicks her glass a few times to get everyone's attention. Her toast is short and sweet: "To Annie and Finnick!" The crowd echoes it back and we all take a drink.

The musician starts playing a song. Almost everyone from District 12 gets out and begins dancing.

"You're dancing with _me_," says Annie. She tugs me forward.

"Good," I retort. "I don't feel like sharing you with anyone." I set my hands on her hips and she places hers on my shoulders. "Do you like the wedding?"

"It's perfect." She flashes a smile. "I just wish the others were here."

"Me too. I keep expecting Britton to pull me aside for a stern talking-to," I say. Annie giggles. "You look beautiful, Mrs. Odair."

"Why thank you, Mr. Cresta. You look really nice, too. But I'm not used to seeing you in a tie, or with your hair and shirt the way they are. You don't look like yourself."

I reach up and drastically loosen the tie, unbutton my shirt a bit, and ruffle my hair. "Better?"

She stands on her tiptoes and pecks me on the lips. "Better."

When the song ends, I pull Annie closer to the center of the dance floor. "I have another surprise."

She grins. "I don't know if I can take anymore."

"Trust me, you'll like this one." I gesture at the musician and he strikes up the song I taught him – the one Annie and I danced to on her Victory Tour. Our song.

Annie recognizes it at once and her face lights up. "Oh, Finnick!"

"May I have this dance?" I ask. She nods; I take her hand in mine and put my other on her hip.

Quietly, I begin to sing the lyrics. Annie joins in after a few moments, and she grows louder and more confident as the song progresses.

Nothing, nothing at all, nothing in the universe, in all of eternity can possibly describe how happy I am.

When the song ends, the guests applaud. I kiss Annie on the cheek and she laughs. "I'm not used to this," she whispers after a moment. "All these people . . ."

"I didn't notice them." I run my fingers through her hair. "All I'm seeing is you."

She looks away, smiles shyly, and blushes. "You're too nice. It makes me feel bad."

The dancing continues for a while. Annie and I participate in all of them. A few people seem to consider cutting in, but none of them do. And I wouldn't let them if they did. When I don't think I can move anymore, four people wheel in a massive cake.

"It's beautiful," Annie says thoughtfully. She turns to me. "Did you do this, too?"

I shake my head.

Peeta did this. Who in 13 can craft ships, mermaids, and fish from icing? No one. But Peeta's a baker's son. I'd thank him, but I don't really want to.

Beside me, Annie is still. Her eyes have glazed over, and her head is tilted to the side the way it is when she's deep in thought. I tap her lightly on the shoulder. "Annie?"

She snaps out of it immediately, her head twisting to face me. "Hmm?"

"Come sit so we can eat." I lead her by the hand over to a table. We're each brought a massive slice of cake.

"What's wrong?" Annie asks.

"Nothing," I say. "It's just . . . You retreat so far into your own head sometimes." I sigh. "I wish I could come with you."

"I'm _always_ thinking about you, Finnick," she says matter-of-factly. "So you _are_ with me."

"Always?" I ask skeptically.

"Always."

**Sorry about the crappy ending. The next chapter will be better, I promise.**


	11. Comfort

**The first part doesn't really contribute to the rest of the chapter. I just decided to put it in for fun.**

**Comfort**

(ANNIE)

_The front door bangs shut. "Annie!" calls Finnick._

_"I'm in the kitchen!" I call back. I pick up another wet cup and start rubbing it with the dishtowel to dry it._

_Finnick's footsteps grow closer. He steps up behind me and wraps his arms around me from behind. He kisses my shoulder, slowly working his way across my collar bone. I tilt my head to the side, giving him access to my neck. He kisses all the way up to my ear. When he reaches it, he whispers, "I found you."_

_I set down the dishtowel and cup and turn around to face Finnick. But . . . It's not him. Pointed chin, massive lips, angular nose, high pronounced cheekbones, dark blond hair, and abysslike eyes. There's no mistaking who he is._

_He sighs happily and sets his hand on my cheek. "I have missed you, my dear Annie."_

_Telemachus._

When I wake up, I'm choking on air. I sit up and look around. The only other person here is Finnick, who is asleep on his side, facing me. I can hear him breathing softly. There's _no_ resemblance between him and Telemachus. Finnick is a thousand times more handsome. Certainly more kind.

I stuff part of my hand in my mouth and bite down hard to keep from sobbing too loudly. I bite it so hard I taste blood.

I've been telling myself to pretend like It never happened. Maybe it didn't. It wouldn't be the first time I halluncinated. But even I don't believe that lie. _I wish I could_, I think as I lightly set my hands over my ears and hunch forward.

"Bad dream?" Finnick asks. I sit up straight, remove my hands, and turn to look at him. His eyes are still closed, but his breathing and position have changed. He's only half awake.

"Yes."

Eyes still shut, he opens his arms. "Come here." I lie down beside him. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me in close. He kisses the top of my head. "It's all right, sweetheart. It was just a dream. And you can always wake me up. I want you to. No matter what time it is."

I kiss his chest. "Thank you for not annoyed that I'm depriving you of sleep."

He's silent for a second, and I think he's fallen back asleep. "I knew what I was getting into when I decided I wanted to be with you." He repeatedly brushes my hair behind my ear to soothe me. "Besides. They've started giving me coffee." The comment is meant to be funny, but I don't laugh.

"I love you," I say after a moment.

"I love you too."

I shut my eyes and cuddle up closer to him, as close as I can possibly get. Close enough to hear his heartbeat. That sound, complemented by his breathing, is what I hear as I go to sleep.

[LATER] – (FINNICK)

I've gotten better since marrying Annie. So much better, in fact, that District 13 has decided I'm fit for military service. I don't mind it, but Annie does. She hasn't said anything but I can tell it bothers her. She's scared I'm going to get hurt – or worse.

The soldiers get trained in groups of eight. The groups aren't coed, so mine is all-male. Gale – who I never thought much of until he rescued Annie – is part of mine. The only thing we really had in common before was Katniss. I started pairing off with him for exercises because he had the fastest reflexes – and he was the least likely to annoy the crap out of me. From there, we sort of became friends.

Johanna and Katniss are getting along. They're grouped together, too. And I also think they're sharing a compartment.

Some of the exercises they have us do are ridiculous. There was one where we were "captured" by the Capitol and had to break out. The instructors made the mistake of tying me with rope; I was free in seconds. Other drills may actually come in handy, like today's. There was this gas that they sprayed. I think it was meant to be knockout gas or poisonous or something. I can hold my breath for a _very_ long time, so I helped the others put on their gas masks before I bothered to put on my own.

We're released early for lunch.

"I still don't understand how you did that," Gale says, coughing. None of our group passed out, but they all inhaled a bit of it.

"District Four, baby!" I reply. "You hold your breath or drown." Annie is waiting outside the training area. As usual, she runs into my arms. I pick her up, kiss her on the cheek, and set her back down. "Hello," I say, taking her hand.

"Hi," she says in reply. She looks over at Gale and smiles. "Hi, Gale."

He smiles back kindly. "Hi, Annie. How are you?"

"Good, thank you," she says politely. (She makes a point to be as nice and polite to Gale as possible since he saved her.)

We start for the dining hall. Gale waits outside for Katniss and Johanna; we promise to save them all seats. Delly, one of the kids from 12, invites us to join her. Annie and I sit across from her. Gale and Katniss sit next to her and Johanna sits on the other side of Annie.

I'm in the middle of a story when Katniss starts choking on her food. We all look at her, then what she's staring at. Peeta Mellark stands behind the empty spot next to Johanna. His wrists are cuffed, and there's a guard on either side of him.

I hold Annie's hand a bit tighter. I'm not crazy about having someone in handcuffs so close to her, but she doesn't seem to care.

"Peeta!" Delly says. Good God, she's peppy. "It's so nice to see you out . . . and about."

Johanna takes a bite of beef. "What's with the fancy bracelets?" She points at his shackled hands with her fork.

"I'm not quite trustworthy yet," Peeta answer. "I can't even sit here without your permission." He gestures at the guards with his head.

"Sure he can sit here. We're old friends." Johanna pats the space beside her and Peeta sits. "Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the Capitol. We're very familiar with each other's screams."

At that, Annie hunches forward and covers her ears with her hands. I wrap my arm around her and pull her in close, glaring at Johanna.

"What?" she says, taking another bite of her meal. "My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy."

God help me. I love Johanna like a sister, but sometimes I want to kill her. Things were going so well today!

I turn my attention back to my wife, who's visibly shaking. "Annie," I murmur. "It's okay. It's over. You're safe now. Nobody's going to hurt you. I'm not gonna let anybody hurt you. Come back to me. Come back." Slowly, she uncovers her ears and leans against me. I kiss the top of her head and keep my arm around her.

After a long awkward silence, Delly pipes up. "Annie, did you know it was Peeta who decorated your wedding cake? Back home, his family ran the bakery and he did all the icing."

Annie leans out to get a better look at him. "Thank you, Peeta," she says quietly. "It was beautiful."

"My pleasure, Annie," Peeta replies gently.

I've had about enough of this meal. "If we're going to fit in that walk, we better go," I say to Annie. She gives me a confused look, but doesn't object as I take her tray. Instead, she wraps her arms around my waist. "Good seeing you, Peeta," I say.

"You be nice to her, Finnick. Or I might try and take her away from you."

Seven. I can think of seven different ways to kill him right now without letting go of Annie.

How _dare_ he. It doesn't really bother me that he wants her; I know Annie wouldn't leave me. But obviously, I'm going to be _nice_ to her! The one thing that pisses me the hell off is people thinking I don't treat Annie right. How stupid can someone possibly be? _Why_ would I hurt her? _HOW_ could I hurt her?

"Oh, Peeta," I say in as light a voice I can. "Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart." _Or I'll shove a trident so far into your chest, the prongs will poke out of your back,_ I finish mentally. I shoot Katniss a look and leave.

"Why are you angry at Peeta?" Annie asks once we're out of the dining hall. She slips out of my arm and takes a step away from me.

"What he said . . ." I say, shaking my head. "I hate it. People assume that I take advantage of you and I _hate_ it. And then threatening to –"

"He's been through a lot!" Annie says defensively. "You have no _idea_ what they did!" She's not just talking about Peeta anymore.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

She sighs. "I know. It's just that some –" She abruptly cuts off and doubles over, gasping.

"What is it? Annie? What's wrong?" I ask, frantic.

She coils an arm around her torso and grabs my arm with her free hand. "My stomach."

"What can I do? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

She shakes her head. "It'll pass in a second." And it does. She straightens up again and breathes deeply.

"Are you all right?" I ask.

Annie nods, but I can't shake the feeling that something big is wrong.**  
><strong>


	12. Weakness

**I've decided that when the time comes, I won't do much of Finnick's Capitol time. I'll just do right before/during his _supposed_ death. (HE IS NOT ACTUALLY GOING TO DIE. REMEMBER THAT.) Also, it IS Finnick's kid. Relax.**

**Weakness**

(FINNICK)

Apparently, my greatest weakness is the fact that I don't trust others. How did I learn this? The Block.

I won't go into detail about it, so let's just say it was not the greatest day in my life.

When I'm done, my hand is stamped with squad number 451, and I'm instructed to go to Command. In Command, Boggs asks to see my hand and tells me he's me new squad leader. As it turns out, Gale is in my squad too. And five people I don't know. And Katniss, who shows up last.

Plutarch promptly begins explaining what we'll be encountering in the Capitol. A holographic image of a Capitol block pops up. He explains that the blinking multicolored lights on the holograph represent different obstacles we'll encounter. He says they're designed to trap and/or kill us.

Katniss and I move forward without even realizing it. She must be having the same thoughts as I am. She must be thinking that this is a whole new arena. I touch a red pod. Quietly, I say, "Ladies and gentlemen . . ."

"Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!" Katniss finishes in a much louder voice. There are some uneasy mutterings behind her. "I don't even know why you bothered to put Finnick and me through training, Plutarch," she says to cover up.

"Yeah," I say, "we're already the two best-equipped soldiers you have."

"Do not think that fact escapes me," Plutarch says, waving his hand impatiently. "Now back in lines, Soldiers Odair and Everdeen." We head back to our spots. I really pay attention to what he says. I've never gotten a map of the arena before.

But then it hits me. Annie. I promised not to leave her again. Especially for the Capitol. If she found out I was going, she'd probably have a breakdown out of pure fear for me. She knows better than anyone what the Capitol is capable of. She never says a word about it.

Once we're released, Katniss and I find each other in the hallway. "What will I tell Annie?" I say quietly.

"Nothing," replies Katniss. "That's what my mother and sister will be hearing from me."

"But if she sees that holograph –" I start.

"She won't," she says simply. "It's classified information. It must be. Anyway, it's not like an actual Games. Any number of people will survive. We're just overreacting because – well, you know why. You still want to go, don't you?"

"Of course. I want to destroy Snow as much as you do." Maybe even more.

"It won't be like the others. This time Snow will be a player, too."

Haymitch shows up then. "Johanna's back in the hospital."

"Is she hurt?" Katniss demands. "What happened?"

"It was while she was on the Block," Haymitch says. "They try to ferret out a soldier's potential weaknesses. So they flooded the street."

"So?" Katniss says.

"That's how they tortured her in the Capitol," he says solemnly. "Soaked her and then used electric shocks. In the Block she had some kind of flashback. Panicked, didn't know where she was. She's back under sedation."

We stand there, dumbfounded. Johanna's always been so tough. And, unlike Annie, she's going to therapy. This just doesn't seem like her.

"You two should go see her. You're as close to friends as she's got," Haymitch says. "I better go tell Plutarch. He won't be happy. He wants as many victors as possible for the cameras to follow. Thinks it makes for better television."

"Are you and Beetee going?" Katniss asks.

"As many young and attractive victors as possible," Haymitch amends. "So, no. We'll be here."

I go straight to see Johanna. She's sitting up in bed, arms crossed over her chest. Her tough-girl façade is gone. She's just a normal girl now. Terrified, broken, and totally alone.

"Hey," I say gently.

"Hi," she says.

I cross the room and crouch by her bed. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"It's not your fault. It's Snow's. And the others'." She puckers her lips and looks at something in the distance. "The prison's warden was a sadist. They say he's still alive. He got off on watching people suffer. I know that for a fact. And your wife can attest to it."

"What do you mean?"

She looks confused. "Annie didn't tell you?"

"Didn't tell me what?" I ask. She swallows and looks away. "Johanna. _Didn't tell me what_?"

"I heard a couple of the guards talking about it a day or so after." She won't meet my eye. My mouth starts to go dry. "And . . . And we could hear her screaming when it happened."

"When _what_ happened?"

"Finnick . . ." She takes a deep breath. "Annie was raped."

My head starts pounding, my stomach twists itself into knots, my hands start shaking, and my vision takes on a reddish tint. I press my fists against my temples in an attempt to make the world stop spinning. "I'm gonna be sick."

Thankfully, I make it to the sink before I vomit.

I can't make sense of it. Someone . . . doing that . . . to Annie. I just – I can't. I _can't_.

"Finnick, I'm so sorry," Johanna says. "I thought you knew."

"Not your fault," I say, wiping my mouth on a paper towel. "You just worry about yourself right now." She nods. I kiss her on the head and leave.

[LATER]

Annie sits cross-legged on the floor. Her curly hair is in a loose ponytail on her shoulder as she continues sewing up a rip in one of her shirts. She's explaining to me how it happened. Something about one of Beetee's inventions going rogue. She laughs every now and then. Never looks up from her work to see the expression on my face.

Why would someone hurt _her_? Annie's no threat to anyone. Least of all some prison warden. It's absolutely, purely, and entirely _sick_. To do that to anyone is horrible, but Annie?

Part of me doesn't want to believe it, but I know it's true. It explains everything – the way she acts when she's around strange men, her reaction to any mention of the Capitol, the frequency of her nightmares, and how absolutely terrified she is when I playfully sneak up on her.

"Finnick?" she asks quietly. She's stopped sewing and is looking up at me, concerned. "What's the matter?"

I manage a small, reassuring grin. "Bad day. That's all." She gives me a sympathetic look. The smile fades from my face. "Can I hold you?"

She nods, a somewhat confused look painted on her face. She sets her stuff down on the floor and comes over to the bed to sit on my lap. "You don't have to ask permission," she says as I gently wrap my arms around her. She leans against me.

"Yes," I say under my breath, stroking her hair. "I do."

Johanna said the warden is still alive. He's probably imprisoned in the Capitol. The Capitol. Where I am going soon. I swear on Mags's grave that I will find him and rip him apart with my bare hands. I'll tear him to _shreds_.

And not just for Annie. For Peeta, Johanna, and Broadsea, too.

I'll kill him.**  
><strong>


	13. Parenthood

**_Mockingjay_ doesn't really have a good timeframe, so this may not be exactly right; sorry. Also, this chapter gives a bit of backstory for Mags.**

**Parenthood**

(ANNIE)

Every night since he left for the Capitol, I have watched Finnick die.

He's strangled, stabbed, slashed, collar-shocked, and beheaded. It's something different every night. Telemachus is usually the one that kills him. Sometimes it's Snow. And when I wake up, there's nothing there but the safety bracelet on my wrist.

I stick to my schedule; Beetee's workshop, the mess hall, and my compartment are the only places I go. Sometimes I visit Johanna in the hospital. Whenever Haymitch comes to talk about a new development with Finnick and his squad, Beetee always sends me on some pointless errand because he doesn't want me to hear it and get all worked up. He's very kind to me, and sympathetic.

I'm with Beetee in his workshop, handing him tools while listening to him blather (– he talks mostly to keep my mind off of Finnick). He's making some sort of communication device.

"It's uncivilized when you think about it," he says. "Punching a hole in your ear so you can put metal and jewels in it." He shakes his head and adjusts part of the machine with a wrench. "And then there's the risk of it getting infected! It doesn't seem worth it. That's why there are so few women with pierced ears in Three. It's barbaric!"

I laugh because I know I'm supposed to.

Beetee smiles and pushes his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "Would you mind getting me that jar with the screwdriver over there?" He points at one in a glass jar beside the sink.

"Sure." I rise from the little worktable and weave through the mess to the sink; I pick up the jar. Just then, a wave of nausea crashes over me. The jar slips from my hand and shatters on the ground as I double over the sink and get sick.

Beetee immediately rushes me to the hospital and demands someone see me at once. Finnick's doctor Bennett – who is apparently a shrink _and_ a real doctor – admits me. She sends Beetee away, then gives me a hospital gown and a bed in an almost-vacant ward. Then she starts running tests.

I sit in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what's wrong with me. It might just be the flu. Or maybe it's that disease I heard about that plagued 13. Or maybe I just ate something that didn't agree with me.

Bennett comes back in. She's looking oddly happy. I can't tell if it's an act to calm me, or if she's actually pleased about something. So I ask, "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," she says. "But you'll have to get used to throwing up, Annie. You're pregnant."

I'm overjoyed for less than a second before I'm overtaken by absolute, complete, and utter fear. Because it's _my_ baby, but . . . it might not be Finnick's.

"Bennett?" I choke. I can hardly hear myself over the heartbeat pounding in my ears. "Could I have –? I mean, would I –? Is there any chance –?" I close my eyes and grab the safety bracelet as hard as I can. "Would it have been . . . physically possible . . . for me to . . . get pregnant . . . while I was in the Capitol?"

When I open my eyes, Bennett's look tells me her secret suspicions have been confirmed. She knows what happened. She knows. "No, Annie. You weren't healthy enough. It's not possible. It's not _his_."

I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding in, and with it, a flood of tears. She immediately embraces me, no questions asked.

[LATER]

"What do you think it would be like if you got pregnant and the Quell and Uprising hadn't happened?" asks Bennett. Her pen is poised over her clipboard, and there's a professional but curious look in her eyes. I've finally agreed to let her shrink me.

"I don't know," I say. I look at my flat stomach and silently wish I had X-ray vision so I could see the baby. "Broadsea might've said it was his so we wouldn't get in trouble. Finnick and me, I mean. He was good like that." Bennett jots something down. "Or my brother and his wife would've pretended it was theirs. Or . . ."

"Or what?"

I chew on my lip. "The week before her stroke, I was talking with Mags. And she told me she had a baby."

Bennett nods. "Yes, Finnick told me about that. She got pregnant just a few weeks after her Games. It was stillborn."

"It wasn't." And then I start explaining.

_"I announced it on my Victory Tour, when I started showing," Mags says. "The president at the time was named Tavish. He's the one who came up with the idea for the Hunger Games. I had just won the Thirteenth, and they were still trying to isolate the victors from everyone and everything. Prove that wherever victors went, death followed."_

_I still don't know where she's going with this, but I don't ask._

_"My boyfriend Bram – the baby's father – went missing. Shortly after, President Tavish paid me a visit. He said he didn't like the way I acted on my Tour. But he always hated me; I think he was just looking for an excuse to make me miserable. He told me that if I didn't do exactly what he said, he will kill my mother and my baby just like he killed Bram."_

_"That's horrible," I say._

_Mags just keeps going like she didn't hear me. "When I gave birth, my mother was with me. And half the district's Peacekeepers were waiting outside my bedroom. The baby started crying when it was born. My mother said it was a girl. I was just about to hold her when the Head Peacekeeper came in and ripped her from my mother's arms." Her tone is cold, detached. It's a trick only victors can do. "I begged him to let me hold her _once_, just _once_. But . . ." She inhales deeply through her nose. _

_I set my hand on hers. "But what, Mags?" I whisper. "What happened?"_

_"My baby was taken away," she says simply. "And to this day, I have no idea what became of her."_

"She never told anybody else," I say. "Just me. I have no idea why. And Wrather knew. She didn't tell him, but he knew."

"That's terrible," Bennett says quietly. "But didn't Wrather end up having a daughter, too?"

I nod. "That was ages later, though. There was a different president. And he didn't really care."

There's a momentary pause before Bennett asks, "Are you afraid that what happened to Mags's baby will happen to yours?"

"I-I don't know. I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around the whole thing," I reply. "Is there any way to contact Finnick?"

Bennett shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. But you can tell him in person when he gets back." She smiles reassuringly. "He'll be thrilled."

"I don't know," I say. "He doesn't like kids. I don't know if he'll want it."

"Do you want this baby?"

"Yes." The answer is automatic. I don't even have to think before I say it.

"Then he will, too."

"I guess," I say.

But what if he _doesn't_ get back?


	14. Backstabber

**First: I know I'm skipping a lot of stuff, but everything I'm skipping bored me to death. Second: This is the chapter where Finnick supposedly dies, and the part in his narrative is mildly horrible. Third: DODGE RETURNS!**

**Backstabber**

(FINNICK)

When you're about to die, your life doesn't flash before your eyes. Mine doesn't, at least. In my first Hunger Games, I'd think about what I could have done differently to avoid that moment. But in the near-death experiences that have occurred since I met her, I think about Annie.

The adrenaline makes everything sharper and clearer. Improves my thinking, in a way. Lessens the pain, too. But it doesn't get rid of the fear. If anything, it makes it worse.

"HELP ME!" I scream as one of the mutts takes a snap at me. Where is everyone else? I _know_ I'm not the only one that's still alive.

I trip and crash against a sheet of concrete. I press my back against it and use it to help me kick one of the mutts in the throat. One of them manages to sink its teeth into my thigh. I howl in pain. The creature uses its grip on me to yank me forward, away from the wall.

This is it. This is really, truly it. I'm about to die.

_Annie, I love you, _I think. _Annie, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I love you._

A second mutt comes up in front of me, makes a noise, and kicks it head back. Then it lurches forward. At the last second, I twist my head to the side. The mutt's teeth clamp down on my shoulder instead.

Instead of tugging off a chunk of flesh, the thing releases me. Then moves to bite my head off again.

There's a loud sound like gunfire and the mutt's white hide is splattered with red. Then it falls away. And then –

"Goddamn son-of-a-bitch _mutts_!"

No. It can't be. It just. Can't. Be.

But it is. And with two quick gunshots, Dodge Marsall, the world's biggest backstabber and coward, finishes off my assailants.

I fall forwards onto the cold, bloody, dirty ground. A tall, slim figure emerges from behind Dodge and rushes over to me. He follows. I shut my eyes.

"Is he dead?" Dodge asks.

"Not yet," his companion replies. The voice is heavily accented and distinctly female. "But he will be if we don't get him out of here." What district is that? 10? 1? No. It doesn't belong to any of the districts.

There's a short pause before Dodge curses. "Guinevere, take this." I can hear him handing something to her. Then Dodge picks me up and sets me across his shoulders. "Don't worry, Boss. You ain't gonna die. We're gonna get you out of here."

I can feel he's running from the way he's moving. But I'm in too much pain to care. I open my eyes the slightest bit to see if my wedding bracelet is still on my wrist. It is. I'm sure Annie's still wearing hers.

This is all wrong. I was supposed to kill that prison warden. Katniss was supposed to kill Snow. We were supposed to end this war. But now . . .

"Let me give him this," Guinevere says.

"Now?" Dodge asks. "You may not have noticed, but now really ain't a good time." But then I feel him stop.

I turn my half-opened eyes to Guinevere. Black hair that stretches just past her shoulders, well-defined features, and pale skin. She's attractive, I suppose. She produces a small syringe. "This is going to sting at first, but it will make the pain go away." She uncaps it with her teeth and jams it into my neck.

It _does_ sting. A lot. But after a second, I feel my other wounds start to get numb. And then my whole body goes numb. And everything melts into darkness as I close my eyes and wait to die.

(ANNIE)

Something has gone wrong.

I know that for a fact. That's why Beetee stopped work in the middle of a complicated repair and rushed to Command. It's also why he told me I couldn't come inside. That I should go back to my compartment and rest because I'm "sleeping for two."

But I know the real reason. Something is wrong and it has to do with Finnick.

I pace back and forth across the floor of my compartment, biting my nails until they bleed. And then bite some more.

How long has it been since Beetee ordered me away? A day, I think. Maybe more. I haven't slept or eaten. I know I should, but I can't even _pretend_ to function.

Someone bangs on my door with an open hand. "Annie! It's Bennett! Open up!" The moment I open the door, Bennett grabs me by the wrist and starts pulling me toward the elevator. There's blood on her lab coat.

"Bennett, what's happening?" I ask.

"It's Finnick," she whispers as we enter the elevator. "He's in the hospital."

My heart jumps into my throat. "Why? What's wrong with him? Is he okay?"

"I stabilized him," she assures me. We race through the hospital to a small, one-person room. "But they brought him in and he was bleeding _so_ _much_. And it's dangerous for him right now." She starts rummaging around in her pockets. "Coin is on a power trip, and she's suspicious of the victors." She pulls out a key, jams it into the lock, and twists it.

Finnick is lying unconscious on the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. There's some sort of breathing mask over his nose and mouth. Hanging bags of blood plugged into his arm with needles. Bloody bandages on his shoulder, wrist, and thigh. Blood-soaked medical equipment is all over. There are other things in the room, other people. But I can't focus on anything except for my husband.

I try to say his name as I scramble towards him, but I'm choked by a flood of tears. I've _never_ seen him like this. Never. I can't even put it into words.

Gently, I reach out and pet his hair. "How . . . What . . . Who brought him here? Where's the rest of his squad?"

"I-I'm not sure," says Bennett. "They haven't told me the whole story –"

Slowly, I turn to her. "_They_?"

"Howdy, Cresta."

I snap my head towards the voice's point of origin. The other people in the room. They're in the corner. One of them is a tall, skinny girl who's puckering her lips for no apparent reason.

The other is Dodge Marsall.

He takes a cautious step forward, smiling. "Annie, I am so, so –"

I put all the rage, betrayal, sadness, and grief – and strength – in my body into one swift action: I smack him. "You son of a bitch." His mouth and eyes are opened wide in shock and pain. "How could you _do_ that to me?"

He touched his cheek, which is already turning red where I hit it. "An –"

But I don't let him finish. "You're a _coward_! You _and_ your goddamn grandfather! How _could_ you?" My voice is getting louder with each word. I take another step towards him, but the girl with him starts pulling him away. Bennett comes over to me and starts nudging me away from a Dodge.

He could overpower the girl if he wanted to, but he lets her push him to the door. "I didn't mean –"

"You _left_ _me_!" I cry. "HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME?"

Bennett grabs me arm and pulls me back towards Finnick before I can try to take another swing at him. "Annie, you need to calm down. The baby –"

"_Baby_?" Dodge stops dead in his tracks. "What _baby_?"

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE!" I scream.

The girl finally gets him out the door. She shuts it behind them.

Bennett releases me. She gives me a moment to regain my breath. I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and gently touch Finnick's cheek. "When will he wake up?" I ask. In the morning, my throat will be sore from screaming.

"I don't know," she replies. "But I'm more concerned about hiding him from Coin."

"You said she was on a power trip. What do you mean by that?"

"Somebody will replace Snow as president. And she wants to be that somebody. But, everyone in the country will be trusting the victors' judgment. And none of you will be supporting her."

Honestly, I doubt Coin will bother me. She doesn't care much about what a mad girl thinks. Nobody does. But the others – _everyone_ will care what they think. And Finnick has nothing against Coin that I know of, but he definitely won't support her presidency.

"Give him his own room in the mental ward," I say. "Say it's mine. Say I had a breakdown when I heard he was dead."

"You want people to think he's _dead_?" Bennett asks.

"It's better if people think he's dead." I look down at Finnick's blood-stained face. "That way, no one can kill him."


	15. Play Dead

**Sorry I'm not posting very often. School's started up again, and my teachers are very liberal with homework.**

**Play Dead**

(ANNIE)

I keep talking to Finnick, even though he's comatose. I _know_ he can hear me. I tell him about the baby, and how we have to pretend that he's dead.

I never leave the room. Bennett brings in food and water, and I either sleep on the chair or in bed next to Finnick.

He opens his eyes once or twice a day, but he's too weak to stay awake for more than a moment or two. But he's getting better. Yesterday, he said my name before passing out again.

Currently, I'm sitting in the chair next to his bed, picking at my dinner. "I wish we were home. You remember our bed? I never really appreciated it until now. That bed was practically the size of this room." After a pause, I quietly say, "Please wake up soon."

He doesn't move.

I sigh quietly and set what's left of my food down on the table. Even though I'm hungry all the time now, I find most of the food in 13 repulsive. And I wake up every morning feeling sick. Bennett says it's normal. I have no idea what's normal; I learned everything that I know from when Io was pregnant with Callie.

"Beetee, you can't go in there." Bennett's voice comes from outside the door. "Annie's not accepting visitors right now. She's still in shock."

Beetee must be trying to see me again. He tries every day, sometimes several times. Others try, too, though not nearly as often as he does. I never see any of them. Just stay in here.

"It's been more than a week," Beetee says. "I really must insist!"

"Beetee – _don't_!"

But it's too late. As soon as I hear the doorknob turn, I'm on my feet. Beetee comes in with Bennett on his heels. When he's two steps in the door, he catches sight of Finnick. He stops dead in his tracks. "Oh my God . . ."

Bennett slams the door shut behind them and twists the lock.

"Please," I say. "You can't tell anyone."

[LATER]

"I still don't understand," Beetee says. He removes his glasses and rubs the spot where they sat on his nose.

"Coin basically tried to kill Katniss," I say. "Who's to say she wouldn't try to kill Finnick?"

"No, no," he says. "I get that. But why didn't you tell me he was alive? I wouldn't have told anyone. I could have helped you hide him."

"We know you wouldn't have told," Bennett says. "But . . ."

"I didn't want to get you involved," I say. "If someone found out, _you_ would've gotten in trouble, too. If that happened, I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt."

There's a pause before Beetee asks, "What happened to Dodge and Guinevere?"

"They left," says Bennett. "They might be in Four."

This sparks something in Beetee. "When are _you_ going home?" he asks me.

I shrug. "When Finnick is strong enough to travel, I guess."

"It should be soon," Bennett says thoughtfully. "It's only a matter of time before somebody else decides to barge in."

"I can help you get him home," Beetee says, as if he didn't hear Bennett's crack.

"How?" I ask.

"Three's right across the water from Four," he replies. "I can arrange for the two of you to be picked up by a hovercraft. We can hide Finnick on it, and get the two of you dropped at Victor's Isle."

Before I can answer, Finnick groans.

I move so that I'm sitting beside him on the bed. I use one hand to stroke his hair. "Finnick?"

"Mmm. . ." He knits his brows together.

"What's happening?" I ask Bennett.

"He's waking up," she says. "Keep talking."

"Finnick? Can you hear me?"

His eyelids flutter. Once open, his bright eyes wander around the room for a moment before focusing on me. "Annie."

"I'm here," I say. I take his hand with my free one.

"We'll leave the two of you alone," Bennett says. She and Beetee go.

Finnick stretches out and asks, "What happened? Where's Dodge?"

"You were attacked in the Capitol," I say. "I sent Dodge away. I don't know where he is and I really don't care. But he saved your life. Him and that girl Guinevere."

"What about you?" he croaks. "Are you all right?"

I smile, nodding. "I'm okay, I'm okay. But, uh . . ."

"What?" he asks. Wincing, he manages to pull himself into a sitting position.

"I'm, um . . ." How do I say this? "I'm pregnant."

Finnick blinks several times like someone's shined a light in his eyes. "What?"

"I'm pregnant." My voice is much quieter now.

The color drains from his face. "Oh."

Oh? _Oh_? What kind of a response is '_oh_?'

I start panicking and subconsciously scoot away from him. I don't even realize I'm doing it until he says, "No, no, I didn't mean it badly!" He takes my hand and uses it to pull me closer. Usually, I can tell that Finnick is making an effort to be gentle. But he's so weak, that I think he's using all the strength he's got.

I curl up beside him as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. "How _did_ you mean it?"

"I'm surprised," he says. "I just woke up and found out my wife was pregnant. It's a bit of a shock." He kisses the top of my head. "I'm happy. Really. I am."

"I'm just glad you're okay." I gingerly put my arms around him, careful to avoid his injured shoulder. "You had me scared for a minute there."

He just kisses my head again and tells me not to worry.

[LATER] – (FINNICK)

Dr. Something apologizes as she pricks my arm with her syringe. I watch as she draws blood out of my vein. "You must be excited about the baby," she says.

I don't respond. Instead, I shrug and fiddle with the wedding bracelet Annie gave me.

"What's the matter? Don't you want it?" She removes the needle and replaces it with a swatch of gauze

"Is it mine?" I ask. She looks up, a look of surprise painted on her face. "I know you know what happened to Annie. If she wants this kid, then so do I. I'll treat it like my own, even if it isn't. I wouldn't ask her; she doesn't even know that I know."

"Finnick –"

"I'm asking you as a friend to give me an honest answer: Is. It. Mine?"

She nods. "Yes."

I lean back, smiling.

"What?"

"_Now_ I'm excited."


	16. Four

**I've contracted writer's block yet again. Fun.**

**Four**

(FINNICK)

"What do you think it'll be?" asks Annie. "Boy or girl?"

"I don't know," I say. "I've never had a child before." That I know of, at least.

She purses her lips. "I think it'll be a boy."

I twist one of her curls around my finger. "Fifty-fifty chance."

Suddenly, Annie stands up and walks across the hovercraft to look out the window. "Finnick, come look!"

I pull myself onto my feet and limp over to where she's standing. (My thigh and shoulder still hurt like hell from the mutt-bites, but at least I'm healed enough to move.)

And then I see it. The islands, rising out of the water. District 4. Home.

Annie finds my hand and squeezes it. She must be nervous about Britton. All we know is that he shot Belisarius. That's it. He could've died without us knowing it.

The hovercraft's driver – who is apparently one of Beetee's six siblings and sworn to secrecy – lets us out on Victor's Isle. We've got no luggage; besides each other, nothing we had in 13 was ever really ours.

We stop in front of the door. "Are you ready?" I ask.

Annie holds out her hand to me; I take it. "No."

It's exactly how I remember it. All the lights are off; sunlight streams through the windows, illuminating dust particles as they swirl. The parlor is bigger and emptier than it's ever looked. Liquor cabinet's still locked. In the library, everything is covered in dust. There's a whole lot of charcoal in the fireplace, and even more tears in our eyes.

This makes things real. When we were in 13, everything was wrong. So it was easy to ignore the fact that Mags and Broadsea are dead. But now it's all becoming painfully real.

Then I feel something rubbing against my ankles. I look down and see my cats. "Barnabas! Tulie!" I say happily. Annie and I crouch down and start petting them.

Annie picks up Barnabas. "They look well-fed," she says quietly, rubbing that spot between his ears. "Do you think somebody's been taking care of them?"

I know what she wants me to say. But I don't want to get her hopes up. Before I can shrug, I hear the front door slam.

"ANNIE!"

"BRIT!" Her face lights up as she dashes from the room. I follow as quickly as I can, which is – in reality – quite slow.

They're in in the foyer, arms wrapped tight around each other. Britton looks like he always has: dark hair, olive skin, big green eyes. His hair is longer though, and he looks bigger. We've always been close in height, but he's packed on some muscle.

"I thought you were dead for weeks," he says. "But then we heard that those guys in Thirteen broke prisoners out of the Capitol. And then we all saw your wedding on television."

"I thought _you_ were dead!" Annie says. "I heard that you killed Belisarius. Is that true?"

He swallows, nodding. She hugs him again. When they separate, Britton notices me. "The whole _country_ thinks _you're_ dead," he says simply.

I look down at myself. "Am I not?"

"Oh shut up," he says before pulling me into a hug.

[LATER]

"Once the arena blew out, I tried to get to Victor's Isle," Britton explains. "But the Peacekeepers blocked every route to Victor's and Sandstorm. They raided Sandstorm and found guns. Killed a bunch of the trainers. We thought they killed you, too."

Annie's speechless.

I pull her in closer to me and say, "But you killed Belisarius."

"Yeah," he says quietly. "He and a few of his guys left on a hovercraft for the Capitol. We still couldn't get to Victor's. But his house was on Mainland. I grabbed my gun, went over, and waited." His tone becomes detached. "He wasn't surprised to see me. I asked him where you were. 'It's unlikely that you'll ever see her again,' he said. I said that if he didn't tell me where you were, I'd kill him . . ."

"Then what happened?" Annie asks.

"He _apologized_. And I pulled the trigger." He sniffs and wipes his eye with the back of his hand. "I told everyone what happened. The district was already revolting, but when they thought you were dead, all hell broke loose."

"What about Dodge?" I ask.

"He came back a day or two later. Said he was sorry he didn't help you. I said I'd shoot him if he didn't get the hell out of District Four." He shrugs. "And he left. He's been staying with one of those tribes on the tiny islands a few miles from here."

"Does he ever visit?" Annie asks.

"Not often. But when he does, he's always got some girl called Guinevere following him around like a lost puppy. She's got the hots for him. But he's never given her a second thought." He pauses for a moment. "He said that Wrather killed himself when he heard what happened to you and Mags."

That's no big loss. Anything I felt for Wrather was gone the moment he walked out on us when we needed him. I'm glad he's dead.

"So?" Britton says. He takes a sip of water from his cup. "Why exactly do you want people to think your dead?"

"It's not . . . safe for me to be alive," I say. "Coin is dangerous. She has the potential to be Snow two-point-oh. And after everything Snow did . . ."

He nods. "I saw your speech."

Annie turns to me. "What speech?"

"When they were getting you out, we had to distract them so you wouldn't get caught." I shrug like it's no big deal. "I've got a lot of stories."

She knows exactly what stories I told. "You did that for me?" she squeaks.

"Of _course_ I did."

". . . And you're okay with him being dead?" Britton asks his sister.

"I'd rather _pretend_ to raise a baby alone than _actually_ raise a baby alone," she says.

He stops breathing. "_What_ did you say?"

"We're, uh . . . We're having a baby," Annie says quietly.

I'm fairly certain that Britton's going to punch me in the face. But all he does is say "Congrats."

"Thanks," I say. "Why are you not beating me to a pulp right now?"

He shrugs. "You're wounded. I don't like fighting invalids."

"O . . . kay." I blink a couple times. "So, how'd everyone manage in my absence?" Britton looks at Annie, then at me. I get the hint. "Sweetie, could you get that medicine for my shoulder? It's hurting again." Annie nods and exits the room.

The second she's out of the room, he starts talking. "It was absolute chaos. Once you and Mags left, Annie went catatonic. She wouldn't move, eat, or sleep. Wouldn't even look anyone in the eye. Just sat on the couch, staring at the television."

I could've guessed that.

"There were dozens of small-scale stunts. A bunch of kids burned effigies of Snow. The Peacekeepers' barracks were raided. It all sort of stopped when the arena blew out. But once I shot Belisarius, things picked up again."

"How so?"

"Civilian casualties," he says simply.

"Who?"

"The old schoolteacher first. Then a couple of fishermen. Then the doctor. The last was Jocasta Brewre."

"_Jocasta Brewre_?" I repeat. "Asper's mother? As in the Asper that Annie saw beheaded in the arena?"

He nods.

I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. Like the wind's been knocked out of me. Jocasta was my friend. Well, maybe friend isn't the right word. But we were close. We could tell each other things our closest friends didn't know. She was my confidant. And I was hers.

There's a tiny gasp. Britton and I look up to see Annie standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and frozen. Then I notice blood dripping from her clenched fist. "Annie, your hand!"

She slowly raises her hand to eyelevel and opens her fist. Tiny shards of glass are embedded in her flesh, surrounded by crimson drops of blood. Yellow liquid's pooled in her palm. She's accidentally crushed the vile of medicine.**  
><strong>


	17. Stitches

**Filler – but it'll get good again next chapter. I promise!**

**Stitches**

(ANNIE)

I'm sitting on the desk in the library as Dr. Visser picks shards of glass out of my hand with a pair of tweezers. His supplies are beside me. As I look at them, I can't help but think of Dr. Herr.

"Luckily, no serious damage was done," says Visser. He's a tall man with yellow hair and bronze skin. He was trained by the doctor who treated Mags when she had her stroke. "It should heal quickly. But I'm afraid it'll hurt for a few days." When he's done stitching it up, he wraps my hand in gauze.

"What about that medicine?" I ask.

He finishes taping my bandage and digs around in his bag. He pulls out a vile identical to the one I broke and hands it to me. "That's for cleaning wounds. A little ironic that hurt you hurt yourself with it, don't you think?"

I shrug. "How much?" He gives me a puzzled look. "For fixing me up. How much?"

"Don't worry about it." We walk into the foyer. "I'm just glad to see you alive and well." And he goes.

The second the door is shut, Finnick appears. I don't see why he even bothered to hide. There are no secrets in 4. And they kept our relationship a secret. They'd do this, too.

Finnick picks up my injured hand and lightly kisses my palm. "Are you okay?"

I shake my head. "No." He embraces me. "Everything is wrong! Mags and Broadsea are dead, Dodge stabbed my in the back, and everybody thinks I'm a widow." I start to cry. "I'm glad that we're married. And I'm glad that we're having this baby. But I want things to be like they were."

"I know, sweetie, I know." He does that thing where he tucks my head under his chin and strokes my hair. As usual, it calms me down. "I miss them, too." There's a knock at the door. Finnick wipes the tears from my cheeks and leads me to the front door.

The second it opens, Io comes flying in. "Oh my God!" She throws her arms around me and squeezes. "Don't you ever leave us again!" She accidentally bashes my cut hand and I gasp. "I'm sorry!"

"It's fine," I say. I smile at her and hug her again. "I missed you."

She pulls away after a moment and turns her attention to my husband. "Finnick!" She hugs him, too.

I turn to Britton, who's trying to keep hold of a wriggling Callie. "Callie!" I say. Britton hands her over. "She's grown."

Britton nods. "She can walk now – not much, but a little."

Callie gives me a big, proud grin like she knows we're talking about her.

[LATER]

Finnick's sitting at the foot of the bed with only his boxers on. I try to be gentle as I peel off the bandage on his shoulder, but he still winces. "Sorry," I say.

"S' all right," he says. "How's it look?"

Disgusting. The bite marks have scabbed over, but blood and unidentifiable goo still leaks out. I'm not totally sure what happened; he refuses to tell me. "It's getting better," I reply. I open up the medicine vile, put a few drops on a piece of gauze, and start to clean the wound.

"I was starting to think they'd never leave," he says after a while. "I mean, I missed them, but . . ."

"Mmm." I pull out a fresh bandage and start to tape up his shoulder. "It was overwhelming." When I'm finished with his shoulder, I tell him to lie down. Finnick scoots farther up the bed and lies on his back, folding his arms behind his head. I repeat the process of cleaning with the bite on his leg. I can feel his eyes boring into my skin; I look up. "What?"

He smiles in that soft, reassuring way he used to whenever he left for the Capitol. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, but . . ."

"But . . .?"

"I want to go to Mags's and Broadsea's houses. Just to see them."

"I'd like that."

We go to Mags's first because it's closer. I've never noticed before, but there are pictures covering almost every inch of wall space. Some are of Mags when she was young; the handsome auburn-haired boy beside her must've been her boyfriend. There are also pictures of her mother. Wrather. Lowtide. Broadsea. Finnick. Me. Dodge. And every other victor from 4.

I never thanked Mags for volunteering. And now I'll never get the chance.

Finnick has stopped walking. He's frozen in front of a picture of Mags standing with him just after he won his Games. Tears are falling down his cheeks, but he doesn't make a sound. I wrap my arms around him. And then I start crying, too.

We take a few pictures to bring home with us as keepsakes.

I haven't been to Broadsea's in years. It's still a complete mess. Half-finished sketches, empty liquor bottles, and a plethora of other random crap lay all over the place. Finnick and I separate and wander separately.

I notice a thin metal box with an "X" written on it. I open it up. It's packed full of sketches. They're of a teenaged girl with sharp features and dark eyes. She looks familiar, but I can't pinpoint where I've seen her. "Finnick?" I call. "Do you know this girl?"

He comes over and takes the drawing from my hand. "I should. I killed her." He hands the picture back to me. "That's Xandria."

I take a good, long look at the drawing. I remember her looking a lot scarier. But Broadsea loved her, so he must've seen her differently from the way I did. I put the box back on the table and notice an identical one marked "A".

Finnick notices, too. He picks it up, flips open the lid, and pulls out a drawing on a thick piece of paper. "I think you can guess who this is."

The girl in the picture has massive eyes and a little nose. Her damp, curly hair clings to her smiling face. It's me. In fact, the whole _box_ is filled with drawings of me. They're from age fifteen to twenty. He's been drawing me since we met.

All I can say is, "Are my eyes _really_ that . . . massive?"

Finnick smiles. "Yes. But don't worry; it's very pretty on you."

We keep picking through his stuff and find more sketch-boxes. There are ones for Finnick, Wrather, Mags, Broadsea's sister Widewater, Wrather, Dodge, Lowtide, and a few people that I don't know. We end up taking them all home.

We head back. Finnick makes us dinner. We've only just sit down to eat when the phone rings. Finnick starts to get up, but I stop him. "You're dead, remember?" I head into the parlor and pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Annie," says an all-too-familiar voice.

"Johanna," I say, a little off-put. I go into widow-mode. "How are you?"

"I've been better," she says. "You?"

"I'm . . . all right." I look up just as Finnick walks in.

_Who is it_? he mouths.

_Johanna_, I mouth back.

"Look, there's a reason I'm calling," she continues. "Haymitch called me. And he would've called you, but, uh . . ."

Finnick guilt-tripped Haymitch beyond belief when I was taken to the Capitol. And now that Finnick's "dead", that guilt is drowning him all over again.

"I know," I say. "What'd he say?"

"You know about Snow, right?"

"Yes. They're going to execute him."

"Yeah. And the victors have to attend."

I don't even realize I've dropped the phone until Finnick picks it up and sets it on its cradle. He puts his hands on my arms, steadying me.

"What happened? What did she say?"

My voice is barely audible. "I'm going back to the Capitol."**  
><strong>


	18. Vote

**Vote**

(FINNICK)

"Finnick, no!" Annie says.

I ignore her and shove another t-shirt into my bag.

"Don't!" she insists. "I've killed three people. I won the Hunger Games. I can take care of myself!"

"No." I walk over to the closet to grab a few more things. "You can't."

She physically puts herself between me and the clothes. "Finnick, _please_! Please don't come!"

"You're not going to the Capitol alone," I say.

"Then I'll take Britton!" she shouts. "Not you!"

I start heading downstairs; she just follows me. "It's not open for discussion."

"No!" She puts herself directly in front of me. "Finnick, I'm your _wife_! I get a say!"

"Exactly! You're my wife. That's why I'm going."

That's not entirely true. I'm going to look after her of course, but I'm also going because I have something to do. After Annie got that call from Johanna two days ago, I contacted Beetee. He found out that the warden Telemachus is imprisoned in the Capitol. He's due to be executed soon, but I have to see him first. I simply must.

"You're gonna get yourself killed!" Annie yells.

"Like I said. It's not open for discussion."

That's when Annie starts crying. _Really_ crying. She sounds terrified and helpless and on the brink of hysteria. She's honestly afraid for my life.

Because it's worse than usual, my response is slightly more panicked than usual. "Please don't cry," I beg. I reach out to comfort her, but she moves away from me.

"No!" Her hands plant themselves over her ears and the crying gets worse.

I pull her into my arms and sit us down on the stairs. "Don't cry. Nothing bad is gonna happen. Please don't cry, sweetheart." I brush a stray curl away from her face and dab her wet cheeks with the edge of my sleeve. "What about the baby? You'll put too much stress on it."

At this, she starts to pull herself together. She keeps crying – I don't think she can stop – but it's not as intense.

"Nobody can hurt you anymore," I say softly. "It's over."

"But they can hurt _you_!" she says. Then, more quietly, "You don't know what they're capable of. The Capitol is a bad place no matter who's controlling it."

[LATER] – (ANNIE)

It's pouring rain as the hovercraft nears the Capitol.

I sit with my arms around my knees and my head against the window. I can't think or feel or do anything. It's like my body's turned to ice so nothing can break me.

Finnick brushes a bit of hair behind my ear. "Are you okay?"

My only response: "You shouldn't have come."

When we land, Beetee is waiting for us. He comes into the hovercraft to greet us. When he shakes hands with Finnick, I swear I can see him subtly passing something to Finnick. They lock eyes for a moment before Beetee makes his way over to me.

"Everyone's anxious to see you," he says after a quick embrace.

He means they're anxious to see how messed up I am. If I'm even able to function. If I'm fit to raise a baby.

"I'll be here when you get back," Finnick says. "I promise." He wraps his arms around me.

"Please be careful," I say.

"I will," he replies. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

And then I'm being led through halls and halls and halls. Given a District 13 uniform to wear – it's symbolic or something. And then I go through more halls and halls. Then a room with a big table. Peeta Mellark, Enobaria Borden, and Johanna Mason are there.

"Hi, Annie," Johanna says in a strangely peppy voice.

I remind myself that Finnick's meant to be dead and say, "Hi, Johanna." I sit down right across from Peeta. I haven't seen him since that day in the cafeteria in 13. He doesn't look any better. "Hello." I manage a little smile.

"Hey," he says. "I heard about the baby. Congratulations."

"Thanks." I pull my legs up onto the chair and wrap my arms around my torso, trying to make myself as small as I can possibly get. Maybe if I get small enough, I can make myself disappear.

Haymitch comes in a moment later. He takes a good, long look at each one of us and sits down without saying a word.

"Why am I here?" Enobaria asks in a bored voice.

"I don't know," Johanna says. "I'd have thought they'd be prepping you for your execution."

And then Katniss Everdeen comes in. "What's this?" she asks. No _hello_. No _sorry I left your husband for dead, Annie_.

Haymitch says, "We're not sure. It appears to be a gathering of the remaining victors."

"We're all that's left?" she asks.

I guess so. Finnick's supposed to be dead; nobody knows what the hell happened to Dodge.

"The price of celebrity," Beetee says. "We were targeted on both sides. The Capitol killed the victors they suspected of being rebels. The rebels killed those thought to be allied with the Capitol."

Johanna glares at Enobaria. "So what's she doing here?"

I tune out for the next bit and think about Broadsea. If he were still alive, he'd have flat-out refused to come back here. Or he would've come and burned the place to the ground.

What shoves me back into reality is Coin saying, "What has been proposed is that in lieu of eliminating the entire Capitol population, we have a final, symbolic Hunger Games, using the children directly related to those who held the most power."

We all stare at her.

"_What_?" Johanna says.

"We hold another Hunger Games using Capitol children," Coin replies.

"Are you joking?" Peeta demands.

"No," she says. She never jokes. "I should also tell you that if we do hold the Games, it will be known that it was done with your approval, although the individual breakdown of your votes will be kept secret for your own security."

"Was this Plutarch's idea?" Haymitch asks.

"It was mine," Coin says. "It seemed to balance the need for vengeance with the least loss of life. You may cast your votes."

Back in the Capitol. Snow executed. Another Hunger Games announced. All in one day.

It's just too much.

"No!" shouts Peeta. "I vote no, of course! We can't have another Hunger Games!"

"Why not?" Johanna says. "It seems very fair to me. Snow even has a granddaughter. I vote yes."

"So do I," Enobaria says. "Let them have a taste of their own medicine."

"This is why we rebelled! Remember?" Peeta scans the table for an ally and settles on me. "Annie?"

"I vote no with Peeta," I say quietly. "So would Finnick if he were here."

"But he isn't, because Snow's mutts killed him," Johanna says.

And Snow's henchmen killed Broadsea, and Snow's order killed Mags, and Snow called me crazy. Snow did a lot of bad things. But he's dying soon anyway, so what does it matter? He won't see the Games – won't feel the fear.

"No," Beetee says. "It would set a bad precedent. We have to stop viewing on another as enemies. At this point, unity is essential for our survival. No."

"It's down to Katniss and Haymitch," Coin says.

"I vote yes," Katniss says. "For Prim."

Peeta starts shouting at Haymitch, trying to convince him. But it doesn't work. "I'm with the Mockingjay," he says.

"Excellent," Coin says. "That carries the vote. Now we really must take our places for the execution."

And then there are people in the room, herding us out the door and towards our seats.

Bennett – who I haven't seen in weeks – walks up behind me. "Annie!" she says.

"Bennett!" I say. We hug. "It's so nice to see you!"

Just then, Enobaria walks up. She's in the middle of a conversation with someone I don't recognize. "President today, warden tomorrow," Enobaria says. "This week is packed."

The air slips out of my lungs. "Warden?" I ask.

"I think his name's Telemachus," she says. "Hey, wasn't he related to your Head Peacekeeper?"

Bennett curses. She pulls me out of the crowd and sits me down on a bench.

Then I pass out.

****Yeah, kind of bad, I know. Sorry.**  
><strong>


	19. Revenge

**Dark and gory. And somewhat cathartic. If you don't like it, please lie to me. **

**Revenge**

(FINNICK)

The cellblock is a dump. It's dark, and water drips completely visible pipes that line the ceiling. Is this really where the worst of the worst were kept?

I pull out the note Beetee gave me and read it over again. _Cellblock 37, cell 17_.

I walk past an empty cell. The floor's covered in blood, and there are loose papers with lots of words scrawled on them. The cell's label reads: #11 – CORIOLANUS SNOW.

Keep walking.

I put the slip of paper back in my pocket, just beside my knife.

I know I've reached Cell 17 not because of the sign, but because of the voice.

"So the rumors are true." It comes from the back of the cell, where the light doesn't reach. "Finnick Odair is alive and well, living in District Four with his wife." He scoots forward, just enough for the light to touch his face.

He's not at all what I expected. I imagined him as a big, muscular guy with black eyes and a shaved head. But he's not like that at all. Blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and a round face. Just a normal-looking guy. But I know how deceptive appearances can be.

"Hello, Telemachus," I say.

"Hello, Finnick," he replies. "Tell me. Has anyone killed the little bastard that murdered my brother?"

"Nope," I say. "In fact, his life is better than ever. His wife, daughter, and sister are all happy and healthy and so is he."

He narrows his eyes. "Rubbing it in. That's nice." His face relaxes. "You know, you and I are far more similar than you care to admit."

"We are _nothing_ alike," I spit through my teeth.

"Our brothers were murdered," he says. "Neither one of us avenged their deaths."

That's true. But in a way, Broadsea was my brother, too. And his death, I'll be able to avenge.

"I wouldn't say that makes us alike."

He smiles, and it sends shivers down my spine. "We've both taken a liking to Annie Cresta."

In a second, I'm pressed against the bars of his cell. I try to speak, but the rage ties my tongue into knots.

The smile widens. "Got you there, didn't I?"

"You don't know a damn thing about her," I say.

"Don't I?" he counters. "I know she's easily frightened. I know that you can do no wrong in her eyes. Relies on you for everything – invalid that she is."

Again, I'm at a loss for words.

"Annie is your biggest secret. And you haven't hidden her very well." He leans back on his hands. "You know that what happened to her was entirely your fault, right? No one would've bothered her if you weren't so obsessed."

"Shut up," I spit.

"Broadsea seemed fairly nice," he continues. "He was a victor. But unlike you, he was never whored out. In fact, the Capitol couldn't care less about him. He and Annie could've gotten married, had kids – and all without putting her through Hell. Why didn't you just let him look after her?"

"Because she didn't want him," I say. Wait, why the hell am I even talking to him?

"Because she didn't want him," repeats Telemachus. "One-four-seven-seven-two-five."

"What?"

"There's a computer on the wall over there," he says simply, pointing at the stone behind me. "Go on. Type it in." He senses my hesitation. "Don't worry, it's not, um . . ." He cracks an evil smile. "It's not _that_ night."

I know I shouldn't but I do. He's almost hypnotic; I can't quite explain it. I type in the number and hit enter. And then Annie and Broadsea pop up on the screen. They're kissing. Intensely. They've kissed before, I know that, but I've never had to watch. It makes me jealous – jealous of a dead man.

The door to their cell opens and a handful of guards come in. They pull Broadsea up and ties his hands behind it back. And that's when my Annie – crying, starved, and scared out of her mind – says, "I love you, Broadsea."

Broadsea just smiles at her. "No, you don't."

I shut it off and turn back to Telemachus.

"Aw, why'd you shut it off?" he asks. "Skip ahead an hour, and then you see her when she watches Broadsea die. Skip ahead another hour or two, and . . ."

"Shut the eff up!" (If you think I actually used the word "eff," you are sadly mistaken.)

"No need to raise your voice."

I smile. Cause I know something he doesn't. "If you know so much about me – and Annie – then I have a question for you: What weapons did I use in the arena before I was sent my trident?"

He ponders on this for a moment, then says: "Spears and knives, if memory serves me."

I nod. "Spears and knives." Slowly, I pull the knife out of my pocket. I can see the fear in his eyes. I take a few steps back and toss the knife. It lands square in his chest.

He gasps. His hands immediately fly to it as he falls backwards. With a loud cry, he rips it out and tosses it aside. "It's not fatal," he says as he presses his hands over the wound.

I kick the lock on his cell door and it swings right open. The cells should really be harder to destroy. "No. It's not." He's still lying on the ground; I kneel down beside him and smile even wider. "I have been looking forward to this for months."

I pick up the knife and slash open his cheek, giving him a cut identical to Broadsea's. He screams.

"Don't give it if you can't take it," I say. "You

"You can't kill me," he says quickly. "You'll be punished."

"A, I'm dead. B, no one is going to miss you." I close my hands around his throat and squeeze. "Goodbye, Telemachus."

Of course, he struggles. It's human nature. But he's bleeding. And I'm a lot stronger than him – I'd be able to snap him like a twig even if I weren't powered by hatred.

His eyes are already empty, but they still bottom out.

I haven't killed anyone in months. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. But it's different from the others. This time, I have no compunction. It's . . . satisfying.

I'd stay longer, but I can hear a guard coming in.

He's coming too fast. Before I can get out of the cell, he's at the door. I hide at the back, in the shadows where the light doesn't reach.

Once the guard notices that the door's ajar, he rushes inside. "My God . . ." He kneels beside Telemachus' body and checks his pulse. Then he scans the body and, in doing so, notices the stab wound. "What happened to you?"

I dash out of the shadows and seize him by the throat. Pull him to his feet. Slam his head against the bars. And then release. I don't know if he's dead or just unconscious – and to be honest, I don't really care.

I just straighten my jacket and walk out like nothing's happened.

[LATER]

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," I say as I board the hovercraft.

Doctor Something – for the life of me, I cannot remember her damned name – is fiddling with something on a table. She looks up at me. "Yes it is. I thought you were going to stay in Four. You know. To keep up the whole appearance?"

I shrug. "Things to do." People to kill. "Where's my wife?"

Doctor Something gestures at the couch by the window.

"Is she asleep?" I ask, going to stand beside the couch.

"She heard Enobaria talking about Telemachus and passed out," she replies simply.

Poor girl. But now, she'll never have to worry about him again. Maybe this will be the end of it. Maybe this is the last demon I'll ever have to destroy.

"Thank you for taking care of her," I say to the doctor.

"You're welcome." She puts her hands on her hips. "You killed him, didn't you?"

I nod.

"You should be walking around with that cocky smile on, not some thoughtful gaze. What happened?"

"He got inside my head."


	20. Cold Feet

**_SERIOUS QUESTION_: One of my readers has suggested that after this, I write one more Resistance story about the Capitol Hunger Games/Finnick and Annie's son/all that good stuff. I'll only do it if you guys want me to. PM me or give me and answer in your reviews, please. Thanks!**

**Cold Feet**

(FINNICK)

"OW!" I shout as the hammer smashes my thumb. "Son of a bitch!"

Annie laughs.

"Why does this kid even need a crib?" I ask. "This is a perfectly nice floor. It can sleep on it quite comfortably."

Annie smiles. "I'm sorry, but if anyone's sleeping on the floor, it's you." She picks up my hand and lightly kisses the injury. "Better?"

I nod, smiling. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"It's been a month, Finnick." She drops my hand and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm fine. I promise."

I swallow. "It's not just . . . _that_."

See, Annie knows that I know. She also knows that Telemachus is dead. But she doesn't know I killed him. I'm sure she has her suspicions, though. And she'll still have nightmares about it. That is something I know to be a fact.

I pick up another bit of wood and try to figure out how it connects to the bedframe. I continue, "Are you all right with the Games?"

"Obviously not. They're going to slaughter twenty-three more children and ruin one's life. Just to prove a point."

"Is that what you think?" I ask in a low voice. "That the Games ruined your life?"

"No. Not mine. Mine brought me to you."

"And Broadsea," I mutter under my breath.

"What?" she asks.

I smile. "Nothing." I go back to assembling the cradle as Annie tugs uncomfortably her dress. "What are you doing?"

"This stupid thing doesn't fit right!" she says angrily.

"Then why do you wear it?"

"Because dresses are the only thing that fit." She puts her hands on her abdomen and frowns. "I'll be a whale, soon."

Annie has started showing. She's nearly four months in, and that doctors say she's doing well.

I know nothing about kids or childcare – and the only thing I know less about is pregnancy. My mother was pregnant before I went away to the Games; she had the baby while I was gone. Her husband took care of her. All I did was bring her food to satisfy her ridiculous cravings.

But now it's just me and Annie. And I'm scared out of my mind.

"Are you okay?" Annie asks, running her fingers through my hair.

"Of course I am," I lie.

[LATER]

"So, what?" Britton asks. "You don't want a kid?"

I hand him a tumbler. "No, it's not _that_. I just . . . I don't know what I'm supposed to do." The look he gives me says he doesn't get it. "I don't know how to take care of a pregnant woman or how to be a dad. And I don't want to screw it up."

He smiles. "Do you know why I married Io?"

"It was politically advantageous?" I say. "Or love. I'm guessing the latter."

He shakes his head, ruffling his hair in the process. (Damn, that boy needs a haircut . . .) "It was a shotgun wedding."

I'm taken aback. It's not that I've got a problem with that, but Britton and Io always seemed . . . I don't know. I always supposed they'd get married first chance. But they waited till they were nineteen or twenty. And . . .

I don't know. It just doesn't seem like them.

"You conceived a child out of wedlock?" I tease. "Shame, shame."

He gives me that same eye-roll look that Annie does. "Anyway. I was absolutely terrified. But it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Well thanks for sharing, but I've heard that before."

"You'll understand soon."

Soon? I've heard that "soon" Annie will be on bed rest and completely dependent on me. But she already is. And soon some kid will be, too.

"I know you don't believe me," Britton says. "But try to relax. You'll figure it out as you go along."

"But how can you be sure?" I ask.

He takes a last sip of his drink and begins to go. "You figured it out with Annie, didn't you? Nobody had _any_ idea how to handle her and you figured it out all on your own. Finnick, this is going to be an absolute cakewalk for you."

And with that, he's off.

The next morning, I find myself locked out of the bathroom as Annie gets sick.

"Annie?" I call. "Please let me in."

"No," she groans. "Go away."

"You leave me no other choice." I shove the door hard with my shoulder and it flies right open.

Annie is sitting beside the toilet, resting her head against the wall with her eyes shut. "Go _away_," she says weakly.

"No." I sit down beside her and wrap my arm around her shoulders.

"If I smell _anything_, it makes me sick." She groans, leans against me, and puts her hands on her baby-bump. "I don't like being pregnant." She turns her head and looks up at me through her thick lashes. "Does that make me bad?"

"No," I say, rubbing her back. "No, no . . ."

"What are you thinking about?" she asks quietly.

"The baby."

She cuddles up close to me. "You don't want it." I look at her, but she keeps her eyes down. "You don't hide it well."

"A-Annie, I, uh, I –"

"It's okay to admit it." That's when Annie looks into my eyes. She doesn't look as relaxed and carefree as she usually does. She looks . . . tough, I guess. Determined. "But I want it. I want it more than anything in the world. And I will never forgive either of us if we give it up. So whether you like it or not, this is happening."

For a second, I'm too stunned to speak.

Once I recover myself, I say, "Annie. I honestly don't know if I want a kid. But we're having one, and I've made peace with it. My problem is that I have no idea how to do this."

"And you think _I_ do?" she says. But he eyes have softened up and she's smiling.

I kiss the top of her head just as the doorbell rings downstairs. I go down to get it.

Guess who's on the other side?

Dodge smiles like it's just an ordinary day. "Howdy, boss."


	21. Lesser Evil

**__So, I think I'm probably going to do the next story because I've grown so attached to these characters and this series. And as the movies - of which there will be four - come out, I'll end up writing more stuff. Yeah.**

**Lesser Evil**

(FINNICK)

I slam the door behind us, grab him by the upper arm, and start yanking him away from the house. "You can't keep popping up like a goddamn rabbit, Dodge," I say. We stop in front of a spare victor house. "What are you doing back here?"

"It's my home, Finnick," he says. "I have a right to be here."

"You need to _leave_. Before Annie sees you," I say.

"I saved your _life_," he points in a rude tone.

"I saved yours in the arena," I spit back. "You owed me. And now, you –"

"Finnick?" Annie's call comes out of an open window on the second floor of our house.

"I'm coming, sweetheart!" I call back. "Just a minute!" I turn back to Dodge. "We'll finish this later."

He inhales sharply. "What should I do till then? Hmm?"

"I don't know! Visit your house, go for a swim, bury yourself in a shallow grave, I don't care. Just stay out of sight."

When I get back upstairs, Annie is bent over the toilet again. I pull her hair back and wait for it to end.

Annie flushes the toilet and goes to the sink to start washing out her mouth. "Who was at the door?" I don't respond. "Finnick? Who was at the door?" I still don't respond. "Finnick, you're scaring me. Who. Was at. The door?"

"Dodge," I say reluctantly.

She does that thing where she looks at something only she can see. Then she looks into my eyes. "I want to see him."

"Are you sure?"

"I want to see him," she says again. "I have to."

(ANNIE)

Dodge is swimming around the docks. Having a grand old time.

"Let me stay," pleads Finnick.

"No," I say.

"Why?"

I just shake my head. "I'll be fine. I promise."

He puts his hand on my cheek "I don't want you to check out on me."

Check out, meaning relapse. Leaving him behind while I hide inside my head. It hurts him when that happens. He says I barely talk or move. Can hardly do anything but sleep. He says it's like I leave him. And sometimes, he's scared I won't come back.

"I need you to trust me."

He nods. "I love you." He kisses me and goes.

When I turn towards the water, Dodge's head has already popped up. He must've heard us talking.

"Hello, Dodge," I say.

"Hi, Annie." He sounds like he did when we were little – in school.

I sit cross legged at the end of the dock as he treads water. "How've you been?" He shrugs. "Where's Guinevere?"

"With her family," he says. "I'm not sure how long I'll be staying."

"Do you love her?" I ask.

"No, not really," he says. "But she loves me. And everybody expects me to marry her."

There's silence for a while.

"Annie." He swims closer, and I scoot away. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"I don't know what to say to you."

He puts his cold, metal hand on mine. "Say you forgive me!"

I tear my hands away. "I can't."

"I saved Finnick," he says. "I did that for _you_."

"I can't forgive you," I say again.

"Yes, you can!" He hauls himself out of the water and sits beside me. "Look at it like this: Would it be worse if Finnick died, or if you were stuck there?"

He's asking me to pick the lesser of two evils.

"I don't _know_, Dodge!" I say, bursting out in tears. "I don't know."

That's when he gets it.

It's common knowledge: If Finnick died, I would too. I would lose my caretaker, my best friend, and the one person who really needs me, all at once. It's the worst thing imaginable for me. Comparing anything too it is serious. But the idea of something outweighing it is nearly unbelievable.

Dodge's green eyes stray to the water. "I didn't know." He takes a deep breath. "I thought they wouldn't bother you . . . because of . . ."

"Are you _kidding_ _me_? You honestly believed that they would leave me alone because _I'm mad_?" He doesn't respond. "Dodge Marsall, you are a selfish _idiot_." I start to get up, but he grabs me by the wrist harder than he should.

"What would you have done if you were in my place?"

"I would have _died_!" I shout, tearing my arm out of his hand. "I would've _died_ rather than let them hurt you!"

He stands. "It ain't all my fault!"

"What – it's my fault for not fighting back? I did fight back. But if you hadn't noticed, I'm pretty small and not very strong."

"Finnick's the one who put you in that position in the first place!"

"Don't you _dare_ start pointing fingers – especially at Finnick! You could've said no when they asked you to look after me. You could've run away with Wrather. You had other options! Options _besides_ leaving me to die!"

"You know it's his fault," he says simply. "And it's yours too."

I don't know how to respond.

"If you weren't so effed up, you could've taken care of yourself. You would've been able to go into the arena, and Mags would've lived."

My response is surprisingly calm. "I've been blaming myself for Mags death ever since it's happened. It hurt me just as much as it hurt you. But that's still not an excuse for leaving."

"I'm a victor, Annie. At some point, self-preservation has to win out."

"We've known each other for fifteen years. You have been one of my best friends. And I wanted to forgive you. I really did. But after that explanation you just gave, I don't."

"Cresta –"

I ignore him and continue talking. "And you know why you don't love Guinevere? You can't. You are not capable of love. I've killed three people; I'm a victor, too. So is Finnick. And Mags. And Broadsea. All three of them were and are capable of caring about somebody and besides themselves. Wrather was. And he hanged himself." I know that I'll probably regret the words I say next. But I say them anyway. "I wish you'd done the same."

I begin to walk away; he lets me go.

I know how much I've just hurt him. And I'm not sorry. Not yet. But I am upset. I trot home, barely holding back sobs.

Finnick is pacing back and forth in the parlor. I slam the door shut behind me as he moves toward me. "What happened?" he asks. "Are you okay?"

"I hate him, Finnick," I whimper as he folds me into his arms. "I hate him."**  
><strong>


	22. Kick

**I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated! But here's a relatively plot-less third-to-last chapter. In my opinion, it's pretty bad. I'm so sorry.**

**Kick**

(FINNICK)

More than a month has passed and Dodge still hasn't left. He avoids Annie at all costs. Every now and then he tries to talk to me, but I send him away with some blasphemous description of what I'll do to him if he doesn't stop bothering me.

Mrs. Everdeen and Dr. Visser have started setting up a "hospital." It's really just a big, empty house that they've taken over. They've started training a handful of people as nurses. This is actually fantastic. Only about half of all children born in District 4 make it to the age of thirty-five. So as you can guess, healthcare here is pretty poor. And this new hospital makes me feel a lot better about Annie giving birth here.

As for Annie, her pregnancy is in full swing. By now she's really far along. The nursery is nearly up and running.

We're in there, painting the walls a very, very light green. "I wish we knew if it was a boy or a girl," I say with a sigh.

"Only the Capitol has that kind of technology," she says. "Look at it like a surprise."

"I hate surprises," I grumble.

Annie giggles, but is cut off by a gasp. She drops her paintbrush on the floor and puts her hands on her baby bump.

I'm next to her in a heartbeat – stroking her hair, wrapping my arm around her waist. "Are you okay? Do you want me to get the doctor? Do you have to lie down? Should I get water? The emergency kit? Do you feel lightheaded? Nauseous? Is there a dull, consistent pain in your lower back –?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she says.

"Then what –?"

"It's kicking me," she says with an airy laugh. I stare at her like she's a sea monster that's just flopped up on land. "Here, feel." She grabs my hand and puts it on the bump. We wait in silence for a moment before I feel something move.

"Ah!" I say. "It's . . . it's . . . doing stuff!"

"It's kicking. It does that a lot."

I put both my hands on the bump and stare at it, absolutely mesmerized. "It's done it before? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It only moves a little, usually in the middle of the night. I don't like waking you up; you look so happy when you sleep. And I didn't really think you'd care."

"You thought I wouldn't care?" I repeat, looking into her eyes.

She shrugs. "You haven't shown any interest before."

That's when I really start to understand what an ass I've been about this whole thing. I've been so busy stressing out that I haven't bothered with the kid at all. And I haven't been there for Annie.

I start trying to piece a sentence together. "I'm sorry . . . I've been . . . neglecting you."

"You don't neglect me, Finnick," she says forcefully. "You never have and you never will."

"Then I'm sorry for neglecting the – our baby." It feels strange to call it that. Like it's a person. Not just this abstract screaming, vomiting creature.

"I can't speak for it." Annie smiles. "But I'm sure it accepts your apology."

Later that night, we're in bed. Annie's lying on her back. I'm perpendicular to her, my head resting on the bump with my ear pressed against it as she strokes my hair.

"I can hear its heartbeat," I say. "That's so weird."

"It _is_ alive," she says.

I sigh. "That's still very weird."

Annie twists locks of my hair between her slim fingers. Her eyes are on me, yes, but I know she's looking at something that I'll never be able to see. She looks preoccupied. Sad.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask softly.

"Everything." Her voice slowly rises and she speaks faster. "Will the baby be happy with us? Can we keep it safe? What are we going to tell it when it starts asking about the Games? What kind of world is it going to grow up in?"

I sit beside her and carefully haul her into my lap.

Of course Annie's nervous. This is her first baby. And she's not even twenty-one yet. The two of us – we've been through a lot in a relatively short amount of time. And now we're going to have a family. It makes sense for her to be nervous. I am, too.

"I know you're scared, sweetie," I say. "But this baby is going to have a better childhood than we did. The Hunger Games are almost gone for good. He or she will never be in the reaping. It'll never have to be scared like that. It'll never have to hurt like we did."

"It'll grow up without knowing Mags or Broadsea – or any of its grandparents."

"But it'll _grow up_. It will have a nice, long childhood. It'll go to school. Make friends – real, live friends. That won't be as screwed up as ours."

She nods. And then giggles.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. It's just – I want bread," she says thoughtfully.

"You were just crying your eyes out and now you want bread?"

"Yes," she says quietly and somewhat shamefully.

For want of a better word, I say, "Oh-kaaaaaay." I drag the word out and layer it with confusion and skepticism.

Ten minutes later, Annie is sitting on the desk in the library, wrapped up in a massive blanket as she chows down on her third piece of slightly burnt toast. "You look confused," Annie says through her mouthful.

I'm sitting directly in front of her on the desk's chair, fiddling with a dull old letter opener. "I am." I sigh. "You're mood swings are so . . . not like you."

"I'm sorry." She runs her free hand through my hair. "I'll be normal again. Eventually."

I hold out my pinkie. "Promise?"

She laughs. "I promise."

[LATER]

"Finnick?" Annie says.

"Mmm."

"Finnick, get up!"

"No." I roll over.

That is when Annie strikes me. "Finnick, this isn't a joke! You need to wake up!"

"What is it?" I ask, forcing myself into a sitting position. "Are you okay?"

"No," she says. "Finnick, it's time."

"Time for what?" I ask, but I can probably guess.

"The baby."

I don't quite understand. ". . . What about it?"

"I'm having it. Now."

"Are you sure? Like, really sure?"

"Yes, Finnick, I'm pretty freaking sure!"

And then it hits me. This is happening. Right now.

I curse. Loudly.

****Yeah, really bad. I know. I'm so sorry. I swear to you, I will g**et it together. Again, so sorry.****  
><strong>


	23. Baby

**Second-to-last chapter. Annie has the baby. Here's the thing: All I know about having kids comes from the liberal media, so I'm sorry if it's not accurate. And it's pretty choppy because otherwise it'd be super awkward. Yeah . . .**

**Baby**

(FINNICK)

I'm trying my darnedest not to panic. But God help me, it's not going so well.

"Finnick?" Annie asks, wide-eyed with anxiety. "Did you hear me? Finnick?"

Slowly. Robotically. Move my head. Up and down. Nodding.

Okay. That's good. I can nod.

"We have to go," she says. I don't move. "Damn it, Finnick!" She grabs a glass of water from my bedside table and tosses it in my face. "Let's _go_!"

That snaps me out of it.

"Annie," I say slowly. And then, "Son of a mother f–"

I cut myself off by jumping out of bed. I tug an old shirt over my head and grab Annie's big, worn-out sweater from the closet. "Come here," I say. She does, and I help her put it on. "Are you scared?" I know it's a stupid question.

She swallows. "Yes."

"Well don't be." I take her by the hand and lead her out of the house. She squeezes as tightly as she possibly can.

As we hurry toward Mainland, Annie clings to me. "Finnick." She digs her nails into my wrist. She makes a pained noise.

My mind begins rattling off a long, unbroken string of curses. I pick up the pace.

Finally, we're on mainland in front of the hospital.

Mind you, the hospital is an old, average-sized house that Mrs. Everdeen and Dr. Visser have decided to call a hospital. Medicine has been shipped in from District 6. They've trained a grand total of three nurses. Mrs. Everdeen is "on call" – meaning she lives there.

I pound my fist against the door as Annie wraps her arms around her torso and curls over. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay." I try to soothe her to the best of my abilities, but it's not working in the least. I smack the door as hard as I can. "Mrs. Everdeen!"

The door finally opens to reveal Mrs. Everdeen and two of the nurses – all of whom look like they've just crawled out of bed. And they probably have.

I, in all my infinite wisdom, can only say, "Um, hello." Mrs. Everdeen gives me a sideways look. She seems to understand when Annie shouts in pain.

She turns to the nurse beside her – a girl who can't be more than eighteen. "Go get Dr. Visser and bring him _straight_ here. Don't waste time." The girl runs off and Mrs. Everdeen pulls us inside. She starts ordering the other one about.

The string of curses going on in my head intensifies.

[LATER]

"It's a boy," Dr. Visser says in a warn-out, anti-climactic voice. He looks up at me. "Want to hold him?"

I turn to Annie, looking at her for permission. She nods, too tired to do anything else. I slowly drop her hand and slowly step toward Visser. When I'm close enough, he stands. He reminds me to support the head. And then sets it in my arms.

Babies don't really look like anything but babies, but I _swear_ this kid looks like me. He's screaming and crying and red and appears to be really pissed off. But he looks like me. _He_ looks like me. My _son_ looks like me.

Holy crap.

That is my _son_.

I adjust him in my arms, trying to get a better grip. He's still crying, and wriggling around a bit. I didn't expect that. I expected him to basically be a vegetable. But he's not. He's a person. A living, breathing, screaming little person.

Mrs. Everdeen is standing in front of me now, reaching for him. I pull him in a bit closer; she smiles reassuringly. "I'll give him back. I promise." She holds out her arms again and I set him in them.

"Finnick?" Annie croaks as Mrs. Everdeen walks off. I crouch by the side of her bed. "Is he okay?"

I pet her hair. "He's okay," I say. "He's perfect."

She smiles. She's absolutely exhausted – and with good reason. She's spent the last fifteen hours bringing a kid into the world. And let me tell you, I have never been happier to be a guy.

"What about you?" I ask. "Are you okay?"

She nods slightly. "I'm tired." She smiles again and opens her eyes. "What's he look like?"

"Me. He looks like _me_, Annie."

She grins. "Then he _is_ perfect."

[LATER] – (ANNIE)

"I, for one, am exhausted," Finnick says. "We've been up for what – twenty-three hours? And he's only been _alive_ for six. And yet _he's_ the one asleep." His tone suggests sarcasm, but his face shows only pride in our yet-to-be-named son.

They say he's average length and weight. And he really does look like Finnick – barely anything like me. He's got my hair and lips. But his skin, face, and other features are all Finnick's. His eyes are Finnick's, too. He'll look even more like his father as he grows.

"Can you tell he's mine?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

We're sitting on the bed in our hospital room. I'm half-sitting on Finnick's lap, half-sitting in front of him. He's got one arm around me as his other hand strokes my hair. The baby, all wrapped up in blankets, is in my arms.

"Of course I can," Finnick replies. "He doesn't look like you, per say, but he's got your same expressions. That's the look _you_ have when you're asleep."

I lean my head on his chest. "I love him. And I love you."

He kisses the top of my head. "You should rest."

"I'm too excited to sleep."

"Try." He stands up and takes the baby. Then he kisses the top of his head where his little blue cap covers it. Then sets him down in a clear, plastic-rimmed, wheeled cradle that Mrs. Everdeen brought in. "Sleep tight, buddy."

"We need to come up with a name," I say as Finnick climbs back into bed.

"You pick."

"Me?" I ask.

"_I'm_ not the one that gave birth to the little bugger. As far as I'm concerned, you can call him whatever you like."

"I don't know," I say, cuddling up close to him.

"You could always name him after me."

I shake my head. "Too confusing. How would either of you know who I was addressing?"

"True," he says. There's a little pause where we both listen to the baby breathing. "I love you, Annie."

"I love you, too." And then, because I can't resist, I add, "Daddy."

His face scrunches up. "Maybe we could have him call me Finnick."

**Yep. One more chapter. The next (and probably the last) story will probably be called Crossfire. It'll be about the Capitol Games and Annie and Finnick's kid and the other victors and all that stuff. Sorry; I'm rambling.**


	24. Cillian

**FINAL CHAPTER OF RESISTANCE: BLOODSTREAM. THERE WILL BE (AT LEAST) ONE MORE STORY IN THE SERIES.**

**Cillian**

(ANNIE)

"What did you say it was again?" Finnick asks from the rocking chair. "Sorry; I wasn't paying attention."

"_Kill_-ee-an," I reply.

"Hmm." Finnick looks down at the baby in his arms. "Killeean."

"C-I-L-L-I-A-N," I specify. "Cillian."

"Cillian," he echoes. "I like it. But of course, the final decision is his." He looks down at our son. "What do you think, buddy?" The baby doesn't reply. "All right. Cillian it is." He looks down again. "Cillian Broadsea Odair."

Cillian Broadsea Odair, now three days old, makes a gurgling noise.

"We should take a picture of him and send it out," I say, opening my arms.

Finnick gives me Cillian and sits on the side of my bed. "Who'd we send it to?"

"Bennett, Beetee, Johanna, Peeta. People like that."

So Finnick takes a picture of me holding Cilly. I write his full name and birthday on the back of each photo. And they're mailed out later that day.

Britton and Io come in to meet their nephew a few hours later. They're standing near the window, taking turns holding him while Finnick sits with me on the bed.

"He's so pretty," Io croons, slowly swaying back and forth. Cillian makes a kind of purring noise; he likes being rocked.

"When can you take him home?" asks Brit, running a hand through his long hair.

"A day or two," Finnick replies. "When are you getting a haircut?"

"Don't sass me, boy," Brit says jokingly. "I promised Annie I wouldn't beat you up while she was _pregnant_. Now I'm just biding my time."

"Why do you have to wait so long to go home?" Io asks. "You've been here three days already. When I had Callie, I took her home the day after."

"You forget how bad my immune system is," I say. "They're waiting to see if I'll get sick."

"Well, Cillian here seems perfectly healthy," she says. "Aren't you, baby?"

Finnick seems a little freaked out by the high-pitched tone Io uses when she talks to Cilly. I pat my husband's hand reassuringly; he raises mine to his face and kisses it.

Eventually, they leave.

One of the nurses brings up some dinner for us. As we sit down to eat, Finnick pulls a safety bracelet out of his pocket. "I'll get you something nicer, I promise. But that's just to hold you over until I get the chance to pick something out."

"Oh, thank you!" I say. "I haven't gotten one of these since the wedding." I slip it onto my wrist beside the two that I always wear – the first one he ever made me, and the one I received as a wedding gift. "You don't need to get me anything. You spoil me enough as it is."

"I want to," he says. "I like spoiling you." He starts cutting into his meal. "And I'll spoil Cilly. And if we have any more kids, I'll spoil them rotten, too."

"I don't mean to ruin the mood," I say, "but I just gave birth three days ago. I don't really want to talk about having more babies right now."

"Fair enough."

There's a long silence while we eat and listen to Cillian snoring.

"I think we should start telling people you're alive," I say eventually.

Finnick stops eating and stares at me with those burning blue eyes. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I don't want to keep it a secret anymore," I say. "I don' want to deal with all these people congratulating me when really, they're just feeling sorry for me because you're not around. I don't want people to look at Cillian and pity him. I don't want that for my son."

He sighs, sets his fork down on his plate, leans back, and wipes his mouth with his napkin. "All right. We'll try it."

[LATER] – (FINNICK)

I pace slowly from one wall to the other, phone pressed against my ear. Annie, who has just fed Cillian, is now rocking him to sleep on the bed.

Finally, someone picks up the phone. "Plutarch Heavensbee's office; this is Linett speaking; how may I help you?" asks his twenty-something receptionist.

"Uh, yeah, hi," I say. "Could you connect me to Plutarch?"

"May I have your name please?"

"Finnick Odair."

And then the line goes dead.

"What happened?" Annie asks.

"They hung up on me," I say, redialing.

"Hello?" the receptionist says again.

"Connect me to Plutarch," I say immediately.

"Sir, I can't connect you without your name."

"I told you. My name is Finnick Odair."

"Look, I really need this job. If I let you talk to him, he'll fire me in a heartbeat."

I sigh. "I can't explain this crap to you right now, but I promise you won't get in trouble. Just connect me to your boss."

There's silence on the other end. Then she connects me.

"Hello?" Plutarch says.

I reply, "Hey. Long time no . . . anything."

"Who is this?" he asks, confused.

"Finnick Ajax Odair of District Four."

I can hear him inhale sharply. "Who the hell are you? How _dare_ you impersonate a dead man! I will have you arrested so fast it'll make your deranged head spin!"

"It's Finnick," I say calmly.

He exclaims a very bad word that starts with "b" and ends in "t."

I give the phone to Annie. "Talk to him."

"Plutarch?" she says sweetly. "Yes, this is Annie . . . I'm fine, thank you . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . About three days old . . . Oh, thank you." They continue small-talking for about three minutes before they get down to the matter. "Yes, that was really him – and before you ask, I'm not just hallucinating. It's really him."

There's a bit more chatter, then Annie hands the phone to me.

"What did I say when I was fighting with Coin?" Plutarch asks immediately. "She and I were fighting over Annie's dress. What did I say?"

"Is this a test?" I ask.

"Yes," he replies.

"Uh, you said you'd make her one out of hair and sheets."

"My God. It really is you."

"Yes, it is," I say. I look over at Annie and Cillian and take a deep breath. "And I'm trusting you to break the news to the rest of the country."

**Yeah, it's over. The next – and probably final – one will be call Resistance: Crossfire. And I promise it won't suck. THANK YOU FOR READING!**


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